


Stellar Collision

by TheSSClexa



Series: Stellar Collision [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Another Soccer AU, CRC, Clexa Love Week, Clexa Rub Club, Clexa Week, College, College AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Football | Soccer Player Lexa (The 100), Lesbian Sex, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Roommates, Roommates to lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, Soccer AU, Soccer player Clarke, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Useless Lesbians, Useless bisexual, What’s with the soccer AUs, face it they are both useless in this one, hot soccer legs, im so gay, plus hot soccer abs, seriously, soccer player lexa, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSSClexa/pseuds/TheSSClexa
Summary: When two soccer stars collide, it’s a super nova.Meeting as stark enemies, both Captain of their respective high school soccer team, Clarke and Lexa unknowingly meet again as roommates their freshman year at Stanford.ORThe one where Clexa hate each other, accidentally kiss, still kinda hate each other, but then fall in love after being besties.





	1. Black vs Gold

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of my work has Clexa with love at first sight. Trying something a little different. Let me know what you think?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A super nova

“Fuck that bitch!” yells Clarke as she skids into a roll on the fresh cut grass.

“Just let it go, come on,” says Raven, leaning down to help Clarke up.

Swatting Raven’s hand away, “I’m fine!” retorts Clarke, getting up on her own and brushing off the dirt and grass on her uniform.

It’s the third time the brunette had grazed by Clarke, purposefully making contact and knocking Clarke down.

But Clarke didn’t let it go and looks back to yell at the referee. “Come on Ref! That’s a foul!”

Putting his hand up and blowing the whistle, the referee cautions Clarke, touching the yellow card with his other hand. Clarke’s about it let it go until the brunette approaches with piercing eyes and a distainful look.

“That wasn’t a foul. It’s not my fault you’re so _weak,”_ the brunette taunts.

_That did it._

Clarke looks at the brunette dead in the eyes, explodes past the referee, and spits in her face. Instinctively, the brunette shoves Clarke in the shoulders and all hell breaks loose as the Captains from both teams go at it, continually shoving and trading profanity filled insults.

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch!” exclaims Clarke.

“Fuck you too!”

“Go back to your fucking trash can, ya piece of shit raccoon!” yells Clarke, mocking the black face paint around the brunette’s eyes.

“Fuck off Goldie Locks! ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it’s your trash I just swept!” rebuts the brunette.

Leading 1-0, the brunette had picked the ball from Clarke and scored.

Thankfully, before any punches are thrown, both coaches retrieve their respective Captains. They continue to shout at the each other from across the field despite the referee’s whistles. It’s  beyond embarrassing for both sides as both Captains are red carded and receive an expulsion from the game. And not just any game, the California High School Soccer State Championship game.

 

∞

 

Name: Clarke Griffin

Grade: Senior

Title: Soccer Team Captain

School: Arcadia High

Mascot: Lions

Location: Southern California

 

Barging into the locker room after Clarke received a mouthful from her coach, is her teammate and best friend, Raven.

“What the hell is wrong with you Clarke!?”

Clarke replies, shaking her head, “I don’t know Rae. That girl just pissed me the fuck off. Fucking walks around like she’s the shit.”

“I’ve never seen you like that. You’re lucky to even be keeping your scholarship.”

Considering it was the last game of the season, a suspension would serve no use unless carried into the following season. Clarke is a senior, and the referees looked at the situation as a whole. It was Clarke’s first and only infraction in her history of playing, so the referees decided to let this incident go, fulling knowing that a report could affect the blonde's scholarship status. 

“I know,” Clarke says sternly.

“Fuck dude, we could have won with you on the field. Stupid score stayed at 1-0 after you left.”

“I know that too!” Clarke says remorsefully. “Just, leave me alone.”

Clarke Griffin is usually known for her easy-going, friendly, and level headed attitude. But in that moment, had turned to rage, resentment, and irrationality. The brunette had a profound effect on her, provoking a type of abhorrence that Clarke didn’t know she was capable of. Watching the brunette bark orders like a commander in charge of a squad of troops, Clarke decided it was a dictator type leadership style that she immensely disagreed. Clarke was a democratic leader, staying silent to hear her teammates out before deciding. For whatever reason, the brunette embodied a high class of arrogance that crawled under Clarke’s skin.

∞

 

Name: Lexa Woods

Grade: Senior

Title: Soccer Team Captain

School: Winters High

Mascot: Raccoons

Location: Northern California

 

“What the hell is wrong with you Lexa?! I’ve never seen you like that,” says Anya, Lexa’s best friend and teammate, after Lexa received a lengthy verbal reprimand from her coach.

“I don’t know Anya. She just, fucking got to me,” replies Lexa.

“You know, you really put your scholarship on the line with an act like that.”

The referees had granted the same leniency for Lexa. 

“I know,” replies Lexa firmly.

“We could have at least beat them by two more goals if you hadn’t gone rogue.”

“Shut up, Anya. Just, leave,” says Lexa, throwing up both her hands and signaling Anya to go.

Lexa Woods, distinguished for her mature, stoic, and rational characteristics transformed into an anger filled, vengeful, and illogical savage. Unknowingly, the blonde had stirred a form of animosity within Lexa. Watching the blonde stand idly by as her team spoke around her, she displayed zero leadership skills. Lexa prided herself in her ability to take charge and make difficult decisions, constantly stepping up to the plate to be a strong example for others. For whatever reason, the blonde was representative of anything but a team Captain, an embodiment of a false entitlement and that got under Lexa’s skin.

∞

 

Nevertheless, after that day, both Clarke and Lexa pushed passed their humiliating outburst and left it behind them. Unbeknownst to each other, they both accepted a full scholarship to Stanford University and each considered themselves the star freshman player seeking to boost the team into a National Championship. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else is excited to see how these two fall for each other!?


	2. Cardinal Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected roommate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding another chapter to this. Let me know your thoughts!

“Aw, bye honey! I’m so proud of my girl!” cries Clarke’s mom, Abby, as she drops her daughter off in front of the dorm rooms, two weeks early for soccer camp.

“Ugh, mom, stop it,” rolling her eyes, Clarke pops open the door to grab her stuff. A large navy blue suitcase, a medium cardboard box full of mostly soccer paraphernalia including a poster of Mia Hamm, and a turquoise Osprey backpack occupied with her laptop and basic school supplies.

“Oh, just let me come up with you! You sure you don’t need help?” asks Abby as she exits the car.

“That’s so embarrassing, I’ll be fine mom,” huffs Clarke, “Promise I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay honey, just one more hug!” as Abby leans in to squeeze her daughter.

Trekking up three flights of stairs, Clarke finds her room, number 307. Upon entering, she sees that her new team/roommate has already arrived and taken the right side of the room. Slowly dropping off her stuff at her feet, Clarke scans her new teammate’s side of the room; a poster of Abby Wambach, silver Macbook, a set of red and black over-the-head Beats headphones, and last but not least, a grey letterman jacket with black leather sleeves tossed over the back of the chair. _Wait a minute._ Clarke recognized those school colors.

“You have **got** to be fucking kidding me,” Clarke hears behind her in a snarling, yet infamously recognizable voice from the deepest part of her memories.

Spinning around, Clarke meets a pair of dark emerald eyes conjured from her worst nightmare.

“Oh, hell, the fuck, no,” says Clarke under her breath and immediately bursts past the brunette.

 

∞

 

Clarke barges into the coach’s office, Coach Marcus Kane. 

“Coach!”

“Griffin? Everything okay?”

“Can I, speak with you?”

“Well, you’re already in here. What’s going on?”

“I can’t, I can’t,” Clarke couldn’t think of the brunette’s name, because she didn’t know it, “My roommate. I can’t room with…”

Lexa walks in through the door.

“Her,” Clarke shamelessly points at Lexa, “I can’t room with her.”

“At least we agree on something,” spits Lexa.

“Whoa whoa ladies, you don’t even know each other,” says Kane.

“Oh I know her alright,” replies Clarke, glaring at Lexa, “You’re the one who cost me my state championship.”

“You’re the one who cost me mine! I was there, remember? You stupid b-”

“Hey!!!” Kane slams his palm on the desks, “Sit down, both of you.”

Clarke and Lexa each grab the closest chair relative to them, scooting as far away from each other as possible within the confines of the rectangular room. Clarke defensively crosses her arms and Lexa, leaning back smugly but crossing her legs.

“Listen to me ladies. You’re both recruited here for a reason. Whatever adolescent squabble you had or have between you two doesn’t matter, you’re on the same team now. This pettiness is not a reason for a room assignment change.” says Kane.

Both Clarke and Lexa explode up.

“What?!”

“No!”

“I can’t live like this!”

“I hate her!”

“She’s impossible!”

“Quiet! Look at you two. Now, I understand both of you were captains of your respective teams, there’s a reason for that. **Find it.** Now I suggest you both get settled in. Conditioning starts tomorrow morning at 0600, you’re both excused.”

Except Clarke and Lexa continue to stand, hoping for a last strand of mercy from their new coach. His voice was unforgiving. “ **Now** , ladies.”

Turning silently, Clarke and Lexa are stuck walking back together towards their room, both stewing in anger. Upon entering, Lexa turns around to stop Clarke just before she breaches the invisible plane into the room.

With intolerant eyes, Lexa speaks, “I have two rules. Don’t touch my shit. And I don’t want to see any fucking dicks.”

Clarke returns Lexa’s look of disdain, “Ironic, considering how fucking cocky you are,” and looks Lexa up and down as if she were sizing her up for another brawl, “Don’t be so presumptuous. Not like you’ll ever have a chance.”

Clarke proceeds to walk through Lexa with an extra shoulder bump, ignoring Lexa’s authoritative stance.

Rolling her eyes, Lexa responds, “In your dreams.”

“More like my nightmare,” Clarke snaps.

“You mean, my nightmare.”

Neither girl would let the other have the last word, except Clarke’s phone rings, interrupting their tennis game of insults. Grabbing her phone, Clarke escapes into the stairwell.

“Oh thank god Rae!”

Raven had also gotten into Stanford, but decided to go to CalTech for their engineering program.

“Wud up Griff! How’s your dorm?”

“You will not believe it who my new roommate is.”

“Who?”

“The Winters Captain,” Clarke says in disappointment.

“Shut your mouth! Aw man that sucks.”

“Shut up Raven, you’re not helping.”

“I don’t know what to tell you Clarke. Karma’s a bitch?”

“I didn’t even do anything to her!”

“You spat in her face.”

“Ugh! Help me! Is it too late for you to change your mind and transfer here?! Please!”

“Clarke, listen to yourself. You’re begging.”

“Fuck my life.”

Clarke and Raven spend a couple hours on the phone talking even though they saw each other that morning to say their physical goodbyes. But, Clarke couldn’t stay on the phone and avoid her room forever. Returning, Lexa is sitting casually on her bed, headphones on and focused on her Macbook.

Picking up her suitcase and box from the floor she left in a heap, Clarke puts on her own headphones and starts mindlessly shoving clothes into her drawers. After emptying her suitcase, Clarke moves to her box of personalized items, including her Mia Hamm poster, a picture of her and Raven in their soccer uniforms, and one with her parents. Clarke pauses, taking particular notice of her dad, now three years deceased, wishing he had been with her mom today to drop her off. Looking over her shoulder, Clarke fears embarrassment if the brunette caught the swell in her single eye, but she didn’t, still occupied with whatever she was watching on her laptop.

The remainder of the evening and night is completely silent in 307 as both girls go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the mood boards for my fics!  
> Find/message me on tumblr under TheSSClexa.


	3. Cardinal Pt II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some good feedback on this, so I'll throw in another chapter! A little short, but hopefully, insightful.

The moment Clarke exits the dorm room, Lexa dives for her phone, plugged into the wall on her desk. Yanking the phone off its charge, Lexa fumbles, something completely foreign to Lexa, with the lock screen. Reentering her passcode three times before her damned phone gives her access.

Lexa barely held it together on her walk back from the coach’s office with the insufferable blonde. Bestriding some invisible line of staying as far away as possible or purposely rubbing elbows to further irritate the her, Lexa chose some limbo place in the middle. Unwilling to let the blonde dictate anything further, Lexa wanted to set the grounds rules. Honestly, she did not anticipate needing anything such and pondered her attack, preparing it before their dorm room reentry.

Not touching your roommate’s shit was a given, but Lexa was sure as hell going to verbalize it. Her second gripe, Lexa’s disinterest in men. She definitely did not want to be walking in on the intolerable blonde in the middle of fucking some guy. _Dammit!_ Lexa curses herself for providing her own mental image of the blonde, naked.

“Don’t be so presumptuous,” the blonde retorts. 

 _Wait, what? Fuck._ She liked girls too.

“Not like you’ll ever have a chance,” the blonde polishes.

 _Gross._ Lexa didn’t want to be near the blonde within a ten foot pole, and now further images of the blonde, naked, haunt Lexa. It was infuriating. _What the hell?_ And why the hell did she have such a profound effect on Lexa? Frustration boils within Lexa, she felt as if she was on fire. Carrying some imaginary flame around that ceased to extinguish.

Anya picks up after the second ring.

“What’s up Lex? Forget to tell me something from an hour ago? Or you just missed me that badly?”

Anya, only received a partial scholarship from Stanford, but in full at UCLA, which is where the two besties from Winters High split.

“No Any-, I am so fucked.”

“What happened?”

“You will **not** believe who my new roommate is.”

“Who?”

“That…” Lexa didn’t know her name, “That Arcadia Captain.”

Lexa hears commotion on the other side of the line. _Did Anya fall off a chair?_ Whatever it was, it’s paired with Anya’s bellowing laughter.

“No fucking shit!!! Lex, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

“Ughhhh, it’s not funny!”

“It is so funny. Hey, karma’s a bitch.”

“I didn’t even do anything to her!”

“Yeah right, I know you knocked her down on purpose during that game. Hiding behind your deceptive technic.”

Completely ignoring that Anya was correct, Lexa did purposely knock the blonde down, all three times without getting caught. But, she skips to her next thought, “She wasn’t even at orientation! If I knew, you know I’d be at your side instead! Is it too late for me to transfer?”

“Lexa, listen to yourself. It’s pitiful. Especially for you.”

“Fuck. The universe must hate me.”

“That was worse. You don’t even believe in luck. Why don’t you go back to studying more soccer games on your laptop. Like a fucking robot.”

“Why do I continually take this bantering from you?”

Lexa wanders her side of the room while talking to Anya for another hour or so.

After hanging up, she begins to get her soccer gear ready for the early morning. Before zipping up the side pocket of her bag, Lexa reaches in to admire a small, dime sized, ship wheel charm. It belonged to her mother, now four years deceased. Her father, a Senior Chief in the Navy, had given it to her mother as a necklace when they first met, back when he was just a 3rd Class Petty Officer. Lexa carries it with her to every game. Surreptitiously wishing that her mother was really with her, proudly watching each game.

Holding back a swell in her eye, Lexa quickly tucks the charm away for fear of the blonde returning and witnessing her state of weakness. Plopping on her bed, Lexa does exactly what Anya gave her shit for. She flips on one of her favorite pro soccer games with headphones on, studying and admiring their plays and skills. She has hundreds of videos and clips, all neatly organized in a folder on her laptop linked to her own personal notes. Lexa wanted to be the best. She already was the best back in high school. And now, since she’ll be matched against another freshman ex-captain, Lexa was going to make every effort to best the blonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hate it or like it when I revisit a scene from Lexa's perspective? I feel like there's so much to be told on both sides. I did this quite a bit in my other fic, Crimson. 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a comment or find me on tumblr.


	4. Mellow Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You humans are really into this enemy thing! 
> 
> My inbox is always open. Here or tumblr.

Lexa’s alarm goes off a 5am, she liked the extra time in the morning to get ready for the day. Plus, the notion was completely drilled into her from her father’s military upbringing, constantly telling her, “If you’re early, then you’re on time, if you’re on time, then you’re late.”

Looking across at the blonde passed out across from her, a foreign sense of resentment surfaces. The situation was unbelievable, not only are they now teammates, but roommates. Lexa tried to calculate the odds of such poor luck. Shaking her head to forget about the futile thought, Lexa puts on her shorts, practice tee, and throws on a hoodie before exiting with her soccer bag packed with her soccer cleats, Cliff bar, water, and Gatorade.

Arriving early to the field by 5:20am, Lexa finishes the rest of her Cliff bar, tossing the wrapper in the trashcan and sits on a bench to change out her shoes.

“I see who the early riser is, good morning, Lexa.”

Turning around, though she already knew who was speaking to her, she meets eyes with Coach Kane.

“Morning Coach.”

“Where’s your roommate?”

_I don’t give a shit._

“Uh, um, she’s still sleeping.”

“Let me give you some insight into my philosophy. Lesson number one, don’t leave a teammate behind. If she’s late, you’re both running extra laps.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, “Seriously Coach? How is she my responsibility?”

“Let me ask you this, if it were any of your old teammates, back in high school. What would you do?”

Regretfully, Coach was right. Lexa, as the team Captain, always ensured her teammates were up and ready.

“That’s not a fair question Coach.”

“It’s completely fair. Watch the rest of your new team arrive. They’ll all show up together. Though I appreciate your dedication, arriving so early, remember, there’s no “I” in teamwork Lexa.”

Kane casually walks away, as Lexa starts with some light stretches, now nervous that her blonde ball and chain will be late.

Time is now 5:45am and the majority of the team has trickled in, all in pairs. Partially forced by Kane’s words, Lexa didn’t care about running extra laps, but impacted her outlook and feelings as a leader, Lexa makes the decision and runs back to her dorm.

Bursting rudely through the door, “Hey! You, get up.”

“What the fuck?!” groans Clarke as the brunette shouts at her, rolling over to look at her phone.

“How were you even responsible enough to even be captain? I knew you were a fucking poser when I first saw you on the field. Now, get up!”

“Ugh, I had five more minutes!”

“We have to be on the field at 6, not wake up at 6! Hurry up!”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke gets up and hastily puts on a pair of shorts, a long sleeve tee and slips on her cleats without even adjusting the laces.

“Why the hell do you even care?” asks Clarke.

“Coach,” responds Lexa, “We’re supposed to show up together. Team work shit.”

“Of course, you’re so egotistically driven you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

Picking up her bag in one motion, Clarke walks past Lexa and they arrive to the field at 6:01am.

“Ladies, you two are late,” says Kane.

“Oh c’mon Coach! I went back for her!”

Nodding, Kane appreciated Lexa’s gesture, but had one more alibi before letting the two girls in front of him go. He was exceptionally glad to have both captains accept his offer to Stanford, but obviously needed to put in some extra effort to build his team. As one of the best NCAA D1 Women’s Soccer Coaches, this wasn’t his first rodeo.

“Yes, you did. You girls are off the hook if you can just tell me one thing. Do you know each other’s names?”

Lexa, standing with her arms behind her back glares at the blonde.

Clarke, standing with her arms crossed glowers at the brunette.

_No._

“Five laps around the field, now.”

Both rolling their eyes, Clarke and Lexa take off in a light jog around the field as they watched the rest of their team listen to the coach’s morning pep talk.

Halfway through their added laps, Clarke finally speaks up in an annoyed tone, “What’s your fucking name?”

“Lexa.”

Batting a light glance and surprised that the brunette didn’t say anything else, Clarke replies snappily.

“Clarke.”

Falling in line with the rest of the team, the morning starts with more running. A group run off campus and through the surrounding neighborhood. To both Clarke and Lexa’s annoyance, they ran at the same pace near the front of the pack.

Returning to campus, with the field in sight, Lexa gives Clarke a light elbow shove as she picked up her pace. Provoked, Clarke speeds up her own tempo and now the two are leading. Sprinting against each other, trying to beat the other back. Except they arrive to the field at the exact same time. It was maddening.

Panting, Lexa leans forward with her hands on her knees and Clarke puts her palms atop her head, both catching their breaths as the rest of the team filtered in. No words are shared, just glares.

The, _fuck she’s just as fast as I am,_ glare. Each hoping to leave the other trailing behind.

Proceeding through the day with some basic agility movements, Coach Kane finally introduces the ball in the late afternoon. Running a passing drill, Clarke finds herself kicking a pass to Lexa, except she doesn’t just kick a light pass, but puts an added oomph behind her leg swing. The ball streaks high and it hits Lexa across the jaw. Actually, it left a small cut by the corner of Lexa’s lip.

Clarke almost felt bad, almost.

Lexa bursts in anger, “What the fuck Clarke!” spitting the hint of iron that coated her tongue.

Clarke sneers, “Guess you weren’t fast enough to dodge that one.”

It was like Clarke pulled some invisible trigger and Lexa launches herself at the blonde. Tackling her down. They scramble into a wrestling mess on the warm grass, Clarke immediately going for a headlock and Lexa pushing up on Clarke’s face.

Occupied with anger, they barely realize that their teammates have pulled them apart and Coach Kane is booming.

“Dammit ladies! This is unbelievable, out of my fifteen years of coaching I have never! You two should be ashamed of yourselves!”

Clarke brushes the small cut on the side of her forehead and Lexa wipes her face on her shoulder, tasting more blood. Still focused on each other with searing looks. 

Kane needed to set higher consequences, this was unacceptable.

“You two need to figure this out. Quickly. Something like this happens again, both of you are sitting out during our games. Every game, until this stops. At this point, I don’t even give a damn about winning, not with my two star freshmen acting like children.”

Kane's words resonated with Clarke and Lexa. Nothing was more important than playing.

Clarke and Lexa settle down after that day. After their embarrassing wresting match, the remainder of soccer camp is civil, for lack of a better word. Clarke and Lexa tolerated each other and put on their best behavior.

Though being in such close quarters was one of the most difficult things either had withstood, both were unwilling to jeopardize their live game potential.

 

∞

 

“What the fuck Clarke, I told you not to touch my shit!” as Lexa grabs her stack of books from the top of the mini fridge that spanned each half of the room.

It’s the first day of class.


	5. Pink Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my "First Class" fic is completed, I can give this one the attention it deserves. I didn't want it to slip off the radar. 
> 
> While the chapter is short, something big happens. Cliffhanger warning...

“Fuck off, those books are mine!” replies Clarke, getting up and snatching the stack of books from Lexa’s hands.

“What? All three of these? They’re my classes.”

“No. They’re _my_ classes.”

It dawns on them both. Their soccer schedule undoubtedly put them on similar academic schedule, but this was just pure torture to discover they shared three basic freshman intro classes. English 101, Calculus 101, and Biology 101.

The only thing they had different was one sparing elective.

“Ugghhh!” Clarke, grunts in frustration.

“Dammit!” Lexa exclaims in equal contempt at their unfortunate situation.

“Christ I want to slit your throat,” says Clarke.

Lexa huffs as she picks up her book bag to go class. Inopportunely, Clarke follows, going to the same destination as they continue to bicker.

“How’d a shit like you even get into school?” spits Lexa.

“You’re the most superficial person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m superficial? I still can’t believe you even bore the captain title. You’re so fake.”

“Someone with your arrogant outlook would never understand.”

“There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance, clearly you have neither.”

“You don’t know jack shit about me.”

“I don’t need to know jack shit about you.”

Reaching the entrance to their English 101 class, there are two seats left. One at the front of the class, the other, in the back of the class next to a particularly attractive redhead. Both Lexa and Clarke spot the chair in the back and eye each other. Breaking into a race, Clarke edges Lexa into the doorframe and snatches the back seat next to the hot redhead.

“Ha,” Clarke takes the miniature win, flipping Lexa off and immediate turning her head to the redhead.

“Hey… what’s your name?” Clarke says with inviting eyes and light eyebrow raise.

The redhead blushes.

“Patricia, but you call me Trish,” replies the redhead. _Score._  

“I’m Clarke,” reaching out to shake Trish’s hand.

Class begins, and Clarke turns her attention forward. Except she’s distracted by the sight of Lexa at her 2 o’clock by the front of the classroom. Arrogant, annoying, and selfish. Clarke contemplated throwing a crumpled piece of paper at Lexa’s head. _What was she, in middle school?_ Clarke could not fathom the way Lexa made her feel, spiteful and mean. It was new feeling and Clarke had to resist the urge to throw other things in Lexa’s direction, like a pencil, an eraser, or her full Nalgene water bottle.

 

∞

 

Returning from class, together yet again, Clarke slams her books down and turns to Lexa.

“Look, we have to do something about this. I don’t want to see your face any more than I have to.”

Giving Clarke her attention, Lexa wasn’t opposed.

“I don’t either. What do you have in mind?”

“What about a schedule?” suggests Clarke, “Assign blocks of time so we don’t have to be in the room together, unless we’re sleeping of course.”

Made sense.

“Fine,” says Lexa.

“Fine.”

Looking forward to _not_ seeing each other, they eagerly draft a schedule. It was uncanny how well they worked together, similar thought processes and finishing each other’s sentences. Lexa wanted time at the library, so Clarke took dibs at the coffee shop in the student union. They split the campus in half if either wanted to wander, sit outside to study, or otherwise including independent paths they would take to class, back to the room, or to soccer practice.

Proudly pinning up the schedule in the middle of the room, each excited for tomorrow in near total absence of each other.

 

∞

 

Their schedule worked extremely well and the week flew by.

It's Friday. And along with Friday was the first school party at one of the main frat houses.

While she mostly preferred girls and wondered if Trish from class was going to be there, Clarke wasn’t opposed to scouting out some of the boys too. Getting ready for the party and looking to score, Clarke made a hair appointment after practice to cut and dye – deciding to have the majority her blonde hair colored pink, something Clarke always wanted to do but her mother never allowed.

 _Well, mom isn’t here now_.

Changing into some leggings, crisp Vans and a tank top flashing some cleavage, Clarke throws on a light jean jacket she specifically saved for parties and she’s out the door before Lexa returns.  

 

-

 

Opening the door into the room and abiding by their arranged schedule, Clarke is undoubtedly gone and Lexa puts her books down. Keenly getting ready for the party tonight, Lexa had seen a few girls in passing around campus, but mostly thought about the redhead from class and nearly kicking herself for letting Clarke beat her to the back seat.

Putting on a pair of new classic Chucks she’d been saving for parties, plus dark jeans and a zip-up hoodie over her red flannel, Lexa also decides to let her hair down, a rarity.

After brushing her longs waves, she grabs a snapback hat and experiments with a different ways until finally deciding to wear the flat bill forward to mask her eyes. Girls like a little bit of mystery, right?

Arriving to the party, the space is already packed with music blaring. Lexa can’t  fathom the fact it would only get more crowded. Lightly scanning the room, she didn’t see the redhead, but a streak of pink catches her eye. She’s too far away to make out any details, with bouncing heads and solo cups in the air not to mention the strobing lights blocking a clear view. So, Lexa begins weaving through the crowd towards the pink haired girl. Squeezing past dancing bodies, Lexa turns her attention to the airborne solo cups, deliberately avoiding getting alcohol dumped on her. By the time Lexa gets the far side of the room, there’s no pink in sight. _Dammit_ thinks Lexa. Figuring she’s bound to run into her again at some point, Lexa momentarily abandons her pink pursuit to seek alcohol.

Casually stepping in to the backyard, the air is cool and refreshing. Lightncircles of chit chatter almost peaceful compared the can of sweaty sardines inside. Lexa finds the keg resting next to the side of the house and grabs a cup, filling it three-fourths the way. Taking a sip, she leans back along the shadow of wall, continuing to look for pink.

Still no sign.

 

-

 

Despite gtting to the party a littler earlier than she intends, Clarke has time to finish a beer, or two, with a few early rounds of shots before bodies begin to filter in. She’s mindfully keeping an eye out for Trish. Purposly standing strategically at the far corner of the living room, Clarke has the perfect vantage to spot the incoming flux of students. Her vision is only slightly compromised by the alcohol.

Clarke’s heart skips a beat when a mysterious looking dark-haired girl enters.

_Who is that?_

The mystery girl is hiding under the lid of a snap back with long, flowy hair that sits pasts her shoulders in a zip up hoodie. Clarke can’t get a focus on her face, masked by the rim of her bill. But she doesn’t need to, the girl’s presence is enough to intrigue her. Instead of snaking through the crowd, Clarke decides to go around back, avoiding the pool of sweaty bodies tonget a better look at this alluring girl.

Wrapping around the back yard and along the side of the house, Clarke reenters through the front door expecting to run into the dark mystery, except Clarke spots her by the back exit where Clarke just was. _Dammit._

Turning around abruptly, Clarke runs directly into Trish.

“Oh hey Clarke!”

Significantly less interested, “Oh hey Trish… nice seeing you,” replies Clarke. 

“So.. how’s it going?”

Without being too rude, Clarke stays to chat with Trish for a few minutes on the front porch before she nicely breaks conversation in order to make her way around back again, hoping to find the girl in the hat.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab something to drink. Talk to you later okay?”

“Um sure.. okay, bye Clarke,” replies Trish in slight disappointment.

Stepping around the side of the house, Clarke grins when she sees the backside of her targeted shadowy figure. She’s leaning against the wall with her right shoulder and sipping a solo cup, looking the opposite direction. Dark jeans, hoodie and what looked like new Converse. Oh yeah, Clarke liked her style. A lot.

Clarke wondered if she was here with someone and waited a few minutes to see. By the way she was scanning the backyard, the billed girl was definitely alone.

Feeling extremely brave with a solid buzz, Clarke quietly shuffles and reaches for the girl’s hand.

The girl turns around, Clarke still can’t see her face underneath the damned lid, but fuzzily closes her eyes and leans into brush her lips against the girl’s. They were soft and plush, and more importantly, she was kissing back. Turning her head and bumping Clarke’s nose, she captures Clarke’s lips again and Clarke feels a warm sensation run throughout her body. More than warm, she had never felt a first kiss so good, excited about the prospect.

 

-

 

Lexa is still absentmindedly scanning the backyard when she feels someone grab her hand. Turning around, all she sees is a flash of pink when smooth lips met hers. Immediately closing her eyes at the sensation, Lexa kisses the pink haired girl back. The brush of pink’s lips are silky and Lexa presses in for more, feeling her insides rush with excitement.

Usually Lexa isnthe first to make the move, but the audacity of this girl captures her and Lexa is immediately addicted.

Naturally parting to change angles, Lexa is about to return with a hint of tongue when the pink haired girl speaks. 

“What’s your name,” she whispers.

Lexa’s eyes go wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know there's always one small cliffhanger in my works. ;)


	6. Green Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stroke of misfortune that changes everything. 
> 
> Might seem like the last chapter, but it's definitely this one. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! Getting this out before turkey day, enjoy!

“Clarke?!” Lexa shrieks, immediately leaning away in complete confusion of the pink deception and fumbling the entirety of beer.

“Lexa?!” cries Clarke in equal shock and horror.

“What- what- … what are you doing?!” Lexa yells, “Oh my god, I’m going to puke…”

Lexa starts to gag and reaches for the keg tap, pressing beer directly into her mouth as if it were water and swishing it around like mouthwash. Granted it was not the most pleasant thing to do, swirling carbonated beer with ice cold bubbles that stung, but Lexa didn’t know what else to do at the sudden realization.

Clarke begins to spit profusely, “Oh my god… I hope I don’t have your rabies now.”

“Wait… you… you kissed _me_! What the hell!?

“Dammit I didn’t recognize you, since when did you wear hats!” Clarke accuses, stepping up and popping the lid of Lexa’s lid to reveal her eyes, “And... why is your hair so long?”

In her defense, Clarke had only seen Lexa with her hair up in a ponytail.

“Hey!” Huffing and bending down to pick up the cap that Clarke knocked off, “I just got this,” dusting it off, “and my hair is always this long… And, since when did you have short pink hair? I just saw you at practice this morning.”

“Since after practice. Your hat’s stupid by the way. And…why am I still talking to you?”

“Your pink hair is stupid. Why am _I_ still talking to you? This doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh my god, this never happened.”

“Nope, nope, no it didn’t, bye,” says Lexa, completely flustered and quickly walking away from the situation and back into the house.

 

-

 

Clarke tilts her head back in utter disbelief. Blaming the alcohol in her system, although she wasn’t that drunk at all. Maybe she needed to be, and quickly fills a cup full in hopes to gulp her poor decision away. Linger thoughts of the perfect kiss now tarnished.

Venturing further into the backyard with her mind still racing in embarrassment, Clarke takes a seat by the fire pit. Kicking her feet up against the pit brick, futilely trying to think about something else. Eventually, the crackle and pop of the fire remind her of camping trips with her dad, especially during the summer when they’d spend all night roasting marshmallows and drinking hot cocoa. Beginning to miss her dad, Clarke was uninterested in partying or drinking anymore. Though it was Lexa’s block of time according to their schedule, Lexa was, well, here.

Just as Clarke is about to get up, she hears a voice behind her.

“Hey, you’re in my art class, right?”

Turning, Clarke spots a girl with dark hair, caramel skin and brown eyes.

“I’m Jessie,” offers the girl, kneeling by Clarke and putting her hands up, palms facing the flames for warmth.

They strike up a light conversation and after about half an hour, Clarke is leading her back to her dorm room.

Walking towards her room with Jessie following closely, Clarke spots Lexa at the opposite end the hallway… with Trish walking alongside. Clarke and Lexa make eye contact with the same thought. For some unspoken reason, whoever made it to the door first got the room. They break into a sprint, desperately reaching for the door.

Arriving simultaneously, their hands touch the doorknob followed by shoulders pressing until they’re completely leaning and elbowing each other to gain the advantage.

“Dammit Clarke, go somewhere else! I was here first!”

“No! You go somewhere else!” replies Clarke, pushing Lexa back.

“Like I said, I was here first! Plus it’s the last of my hour right now!” yells Lexa.

“Aw, c’mon!

“You c’mon!”

“Just! I’ll make a deal with you,” Clarke tries to reason, “I’ll trade you three of my hours!”

“No deals! Especially after your uninvited kiss!”

“Hey you kissed me back!”

 

-

 

Clarke as Lexa are completely focused on each other, lightly wrestling and pressing into each other cheek to cheek as Trish and Jessie are standing idly by.

“Did they just say they kissed?” says Trish.

“I think so.. but I have no idea what’s going on,” replies Jessie.

“Me either. I’m so confused.”

“This is getting kinda weird.”

“Yeah… wanna go somewhere else?”

Jessie agrees with a shrug, holding out her hand and Trish and Jessie stroll off together, leaving Clarke and Lexa.

 

-

 

Breaking into the room in a jumble, Clarke and Lexa fall onto the floor together and both scramble up to retrieve their prospective girls.

“Trish?”

“Jessie?”

Clarke and Lexa peak down opposing ends of the hallway with no one in sight. Trish and Jessie had been gone for quite a while.

“Dammit Lexa!” shouts Clarke.

“Oh shut up, I was way closer than you were!”

“Who cares. Now they’re both gone,” as Clarke slumps on her bed, kicking her shoes off and looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds before automatically pulling out her phone.

In equal disappointment, Lexa sits down on her own bed with feet hanging off the edge. For lack of words, Lexa retrieves her own phone.

Idly scrolling through Instagram, Lexa can’t help but look up at Clarke. Her pink hair did, in fact, look nice. Lexa had lied through her teeth. It was… cute. And Clarke’s kiss was… perfect. Gentle but also impeccably balanced with assertiveness. And a silky smooth composure that hinted of something sweet and peppery, like cinnamon dusted sugar. Likely due to Clarke’s last shot of Fireball. Lexa found herself staring. Staring at the way Clarke’s pink highlights splayed messily on her pillow, Lexa wanted to run her fingers through it. The way Clarke’s eyes studied the bright screen with intent, Lexa wanted to meet them with her own. And more so, the way her lips parted as she breathed, Lexa wanted to close the gap with hers. Lexa's trance is interrupted when Clarke turns to look in her direction, and Lexa immediately drops her head back down at her phone.

Clarke thought she felt Lexa staring, but turns to find Lexa still looking down at her phone. Eyeing the snapback, Clarke was lying when she said the hat was stupid. It looked good on Lexa, she pulled off the dark look of allure well, especially with her long, chestnut colored hair. Clarke found herself wanting to trace the waves with her fingers. Shifting her gaze back up, Lexa’s eyes hiding beneath the bill, Clarke wanted to peak under fulling knowing the emerald city that resided below and yearned to visit. Drifting down to Lexa’s lips, a full cloud of plush that had Clarke melting like cotton candy, Clarke wanted to meet them again.

_Smack._

Clarke was so lost in her reverie that she had dropped her phone on her face.

“Ow, shit,” says Clarke, rubbing her forehead where the corner of the phone had caught her the most.

Lexa looks up, “Are you okay?” It was an automatic response, Lexa had forgotten that she was supposed to hate Clarke. Right?

Clarke peers back over in curiosity, meeting a bright set of green pupils. _Were they always so vibrant?_   Granted the entire evening had been awkward, there was an undoubted shift in the air between them.

“Uh.. yeah, I’m fine.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a second too long, trying to read through each other’s façade, but simultaneously break before it got even more awkward.

Closing all the apps on her phone, Lexa sets up her alarm for the following morning. They had their first game at 10am against the Oregon Ducks.

“I’m setting my alarm for 8:30 tomorrow morning,” says Lexa. She’s not really sure why she said it, she wasn’t supposed to care. But decided to let Clarke know.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees, “Do you want me to set mine just in case?”

Peering over in caution, like Clarke’s offer was a trap, Lexa gives a tentative, “Sure.”

Clarke simply nods and turns her attention back to her phone.

 

∞

 

“Let’s go, let’s go! Bring it in!” shouts Coach Kane after their brief warm up before their first game.

Coach Kane was hesitant to put both Clarke and Lexa in together considering their enmity. But, he had studied their stats and tendencies. They would be perfect together. Lexa had the grace and Clarke had the drive. Together, the Stanford Cardinals would be unbeatable. Lexa led her high school team in total points, dominated by assists. Clarke also led her high school team in total points, but dominated by goals.

Kane pulls them both aside before game start.

“Clarke, Lexa, you two are both in. Any hint of animosity, and at least one, if not both of you are out. Got it?”

They nod in understanding.

Roughly 30 minutes into the game, Lexa receives the ball for a break away. Bursting into full speed, Clarke caught up alongside, calling for a pass. Lexa wanted to, except that Clarke was in the wrong position for a clean pass. While Clarke appeared to be open, Lexa caught the lurking defender in the corner of her eye, managing the passing lane between her and Clarke.

Making a calculated decision, Lexa doesn’t pass and presses forward. To her dismay, she’s cornered by a second defender and stripped of the ball. _Fuck._

Lexa turns to catch up with the play, but spots Clarke’s look from a distance. Clarke wasn’t happy about her decision.

Pausing at the half, the score is still 0-0 as Lexa reaches for a cup of water, back turned when she hears Clarke behind her.

“Seriously Lexa, I was open during your breakaway back there.”

Lexa takes a deep breathe in to control her tone, fearful of Kane overhearing.

“No, you weren’t Clarke,” she replies sternly, turning around. 

“Why do you have to be such a ball hog?” Clarke comments. “We all know you’re good, just pass the ball and share the wealth every once in a while.”

“I’m not a ball hog,” Lexa insists through gritted teeth, “I wanted to pass it to you, there was a defender managing the passing lane. I couldn’t. Wait, did you just acknowledge that I’m good?”

Lexa had caught Clarke’s misspoke.

“Well…” Clarke couldn’t take back what she said, and surrendered to honesty, “Yeah, you’re fucking good, okay? They’re always double teaming you and I’m open.”

“They’re also managing all the passing lanes to you. You’re too fast to overlook, and ahead of the play.”

“Did you just say that I’m fast?” asks Clarke, astounded at Lexa’s compliment.

“That pink hair doesn’t help either,” Lexa tries to cover her own mistake but eventually admits, “And yes, you’re fucking fast. Just, sit back a little.”

Before Clarke can respond to their new strategy, Coach Kane must have caught something as he approaches.

“Ladies, are you two arguing again?”

Though they weren’t exactly arguing, the image looked that way, inadvertently getting them into some trouble.

“That’s it. What’d I say? I’m separating you two. Griffin, you’re out the rest of this game,” says Kane.

“What?! I didn’t even do anything!”

Feeling bad, Lexa tries to defend Clarke. “Oh c’mon Coach, we weren’t arguing. Sit me out instead?”

Clarke took notice at Lexa’s offer to sit out.

“The ball seems to be gravitating towards you this game, Lexa. So, you stay in," replies Kane.

Lexa gives her a light apology in passing as the second half begins. “Sorry.”

Clarke nods in acknowledgement.

Taking a seat on the sideline bench, the game resumes and Clarke watches in disappointment with arms crossed.

Ten minutes into the second half, Lexa’s in for another breakaway and Clarke can feel the excitement build up inside her. Though she’d somewhat warmed up to Lexa, an overwhelming want to for Lexa to score takes over and she stands eagerly. 

She doesn’t join the rest of the team loudly cheering, “Go Lexa, go!” but watches closely in anticipation.

The play unfolds with a defender catching up to Lexa, and Clarke watches as Lexa kicks the ball forward to chase, fulling knowing her own speed and ability to outrun the defender without managing the ball. Damn, Lexa was a smart player.

Unexpectedly, Oregon’s goalie springs forward, sprinting at the ball from the opposite direction.

“Oh shit,” Clarke whispers underneath her breath.

If Lexa gets to the ball first, it’s a sure goal. But, that wasn’t quite the case. As Lexa connects her foot with the ball, the goalie pounces forward into a dive, also making contact. The black and white sphere pops up into the air. Clarke watches in slow motion as it takes a parabolic path, arcing frame by frame, time seemed to stand still with spectators focused on its landing.

The ball lands just shy of the goal line, but proceeds to roll in at a snail’s pace until finally, breaking the painted white marks for a goal.

Sounds of applause and cheer drown the field and even Clarke found herself jumping in enthusiasm.

However, after a few seconds of happiness, a heavy stillness blankets the field thicker than 100% humidity in a Floridian summer that could be felt for miles. Players step aside and referees rush. Something wasn’t right.

Peering past the flash of red and white uniforms, Clarke spots Lexa just inside the first line known as the penalty area. She’s down. The Oregon goalie seemed fine, kneeling down on one knee at the situation. 

Thinking back on the play, Lexa and the goalie must have collided. Too focused on the ball, Clarke didn’t see what happened and unsure if anyone else did.

“Did you see what happened?” Clarke asks her teammates on the sidelines.

They shake their heads and desperate for an answer, Clarke takes off in a light jog onto the field, feeling compelled to help. She wouldn’t attribute her urge to help to just one measly week as a pre-med freshman, but her mother was an ER doctor. Additionally, Clarke had spent several summers lifeguarding at a local pool and was familiar with basic first aid.

As she approaches, the image of Lexa on the grass sharpens. Streaks of grass, dirt, and light blood stain Lexa’s white uniform. Though, it wasn’t the blood that was concerning, only minor scratches along her exposed forearms and calf, but the way Lexa was gripping her right shin, grimacing in pain. It doesn’t look good.

“Lexa!” Clarke arrives at her side, skidding down on her knees.

Lexa likely broke her shin bone. It was a particular soft spot for Clarke, like kryptonite normalizing Supergirl. Clarke felt human again with all remaining anger and animosity lost, eons away.

Back in high school, Clarke had broken her tibia just before the State Championship her junior year, subsequently missing out the final game when her school had lost to the Raccoons the first time. She and Lexa would have faced each other a year earlier, but Clarke spent that day at home and listened to a play-by-play from Raven over the phone afterwards. Six weeks immobilized in a cast, hopping along on crutches and pumped on pain meds wasn’t even the worst of it.

Once the cast was off, Clarke’s recovery was followed by another six painstaking weeks of physical therapy. Lost balance that needed to be regained, it didn’t just return like magic from thin air. Weeks of single legged exercises in varied squats and lunges until she could finally run again. And then another two weeks beyond that when she felt confident enough to kick a ball with even remote force.

Of all things, the experience was most humbling. Clarke was already a modest person, but the injury changed her mindset. Being the best didn’t mean you were invincible. And here it was again, unfolding before her eyes as Lexa lay stationary on the ground.

Clarke felt for her.

 

-

 

Jaw clenched and forehead pressed against the warm ground, Lexa is fighting the crushing pain originating from her shin with a pulsating throb that resonated throughout her body. The feeling was nauseating as she resisted the urge to vomit while simultaneously trying not to pass out with blurring vision.

Except it’s not just her vision fading in and out, but also the deafening sound of her own pulse in her ear spliced by a sharp ring. Behind the ring, she hears echoes of her name.

“Lexa, Lexa, Lexa” barely audible and far from recognizable until Lexa registers a hand rubbing her shoulders, around her back, between her shoulder blades, and back around.

With pain that seemed to increase with each breath, Lexa can’t help the guttural, staccato noises that involuntarily emerge from her throat, feeling weak and vulnerable. A bodily reaction she tried her best to control.

“Breath, it’s okay, I’m here, just breath,” she hears.

Focusing on her breathing, Lexa manages a short, but consistent tempo.

“That’s it, there you go,” the angelic voice begins to pull her through.

She feels the same hands sweep strands of hair from her face and behind her ear. Kind and reassuring hands that allow her to close her eyes to force bigger, steadier breaths.

Lexa has no gauge of time, but at some point, the initial shock throughout her body subsides considerably and now solely isolated to her shin. Hand still rubbing her back.

“Lexa?” It was that voice again, familiar but different. “Can you hear me?”

Lexa nods in response.

“Lexa? Can you sit up? The medics are here.” A kind whisper.

Reopening her eyes, Lexa shifts her weight, rolling from her side up. Feeling the same hands help her sit up, her gaze focuses on pure blue. It was Clarke. Brushing more stray hairs from her own eyes and forcing her attention, Lexa didn’t remember Clarke’s eyes being so mesmerizingly beautiful. _Were they always so vivid?_

It was like watching the sun disappear before the horizon and reminded Lexa of when her father took her sailing. Sitting peacefully on the calm and glassy sea and witnessing an ocean of blue that shimmered with yellow and orange. And if you waited long enough, if you were lucky, a spec of green overtook the sky as the sun disappeared. Lexa was actually witnessing her own eyes reflecting off Clarke’s. But it was the most religious experience she’d ever had, a celestial green flash meant for the sky. Created and recaptured by the sun.

It must be the body’s adrenaline and natural endorphins fully kicking in to mask the pain of her broken leg. Right?

“How do you feel?” Lexa hears a deep voice behind her. One of the medics.

Speechless, Lexa is still completely spellbound.

“Do we know if she hit her head too?” asks the medics, visually checking for any signs of a head injury or bruising along the neck.

“Not that I know of,” replies Clarke and turns her attention back to Lexa, “Lexa? Lexa look at me. Hey,” Clarke snaps her fingers a few times, “Snap out of it. Does your head hurt?” Clarke reiterates.

Listening to Clarke’s words and starting to feel herself break out of… whatever was happening, which was most definitely NOT the pain in her shin that had her in such a daze, and far from hitting her head.  

Regaining some clarity, Lexa finally replies, “I am looking at you. My head’s fine. Did I score?”

Clarke smiles lightly, and Lexa SWEARS she’s going to pass out. In fact, she does, for a split-second Lexa sways off balance and Clarke catches her.

“Whoa,” gripping Lexa’s shoulders and helping her regain an upright position, “You scored. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

Lexa nods.

“That’s okay, we got it from here,” says the medic, leaning down and helping Lexa up onto the gurney.

“I want to come,” says Clarke eagerly.

Kane looks over at Clarke suspiciously, but decided that it didn’t matter how or why Clarke cared, simply happy that she did for her teammate.

Regretfully, Kane declines her, “Sorry Griffin, but I’ll need you in the game now,” as the EMS personnel carried Lexa off the field, but counteroffers, “Considering you’re her roommate, how about I take you there afterwards?”

Clarke nods, but still focused on Lexa, now being pushed into the back of the EMS truck on the sidelines.

Reluctantly, Clarke finishes the game on autopilot with thoughts of Lexa primarily occupying her mind.

The Cardinals managed to stave off the Ducks and the score remained 1-0 after the full ninety minutes of play. Lexa had given them their sole, winning goal.


	7. Blue Hues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to break this chapter in half, but decided not to. Happy Holidays people!
> 
> If you haven't already, please check out my newest fanfic "Breaking the Ice". Clarke and Lexa are hockey players! I do my best to change their dynamics so you're not reading the same Clexa in each story. Seriously, it's been hard not to mush them altogether, all the time. Enjoy!

Arriving at the emergency room, Coach Kane and Clarke check in with the front desk.

“Can I go see her?” Clarke asks the clerk eagerly.

“Yes, just wait here and we’ll have someone escort you back.”

Clarke sits down nervously next to Coach Kane, who had contacted Lexa’s father and made all the other notifications. They sit in silence as Kane thought about the future of his line and hopeful Lexa will recover by mid-season.

Clarke worried about Lexa.

At that moment, it dawned on Clarke, _when did she start caring about Lexa_? She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment in time, narrowing it down to the last 24 hours. It all happened so fast. Their horrifying kiss… which didn’t seem so horrifying anymore, to this very moment. Worry, angst, and regret filled her chest, she would never wish this on anybody, but for some reason, felt an extra sting that it was Lexa.

“We’re ready to take you back now,” says a nurse though a set of swinging double doors.

Escorted down a hallway and into an individual room, Kane enters the room first with Clarke following behind.

Black and white X-rays glow through a lighted case mounted on the wall, which confirm a tibial shaft fracture. Lexa is sitting with her right leg extended forward, inner cast drying when she sees Kane walk in.

A small spark in her chest flickers when she sees he’s being followed.

“Clarke?”

“Hey,” Clarke says softly, poking her head around Kane and giving Lexa a wry smile.

The doctor enters before they could say anything else to each other.

“What’s the prognosis doc?” Kane quickly asks.

“Four to six weeks in a cast, followed by some physical therapy,” replies the doctor, turning his attention to Lexa, “You’re lucky, all things considered, it was a stable fracture. Essentially a clean break, so no surgery is needed and it should heal nicely.”

Lexa nods.

“I tried contacting your father, he’s not available. They said something about being underway?”

Lexa nods again, confirming Kane’s information, “Yes, he’s in the Navy and underway on a ship right now.”

“There’s an emergency contact for your aunt, lives in Sacramento. Would you like me to call her?”

Lexa shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. I’m really not sure what she’d be able to do. She’s a little old, lives alone, and quite frankly, I question her sanity.”

Clarke lets out a light giggle that sounded surprisingly adorable to Lexa.

“Well, someone should be designated to look after you,” says the doctor, implying Coach Kane.

Clarke leaps up at the opportunity, “I can do it!” and causing the room to peer suspiciously at Clarke’s excitement.

“Uh… I’ve broken my leg before,” Clarke reasons, “I know what I’m doing. Plus my mom is an ER doctor. Seriously.” Trying not to sound crazy.

Somehow, Clarke was convincing enough as the doctor nods and hands a clipboard to Kane, “Since you’re the current attending adult, you can sign these release forms,” and turns his attention to a drawer, pulling it open to a roll of assorted colors. “Well Lexa, what color would you like your cast?”

Usually, Lexa leaned towards red, considering it was also her school colors but caught a glimpse of Clarke’s eyes just beforehand. Something else made the decision for her, a sudden impulse she was unable to control.

“Blue,” says Lexa before she could even register her decision.

“Obviously we have a few shades of blue. Light, dark, and this bright one.”

Clarke watches inquisitively as Lexa settles on the shade of blue that best matched her eyes.

“Bright blue it is,” says the doctor, reaching for the roll and proceeding to wrap Lexa’s leg.

-

Lexa is discharged with a pair crutches and a bag full of painkillers Clarke is carrying.

As Kane drops them off at the front of the dorm room, Clarke is overtly chivalrous; speeding out of the car to open Lexa’s door for her, opening and holding all other doors as Lexa’s crutches clicked by. Lexa felt herself blush.

Typically home alone since her mother’s death four years ago in additional to her father’s time demanding job, Lexa learned to take care of herself. She was truly a self-sufficient teenager, driving herself to school, soccer practice and games. Further, Lexa worked. She didn’t really need the money, but enjoyed the extra cash. Working a few hours a day at a local coffee shop, it allowed Lexa the small luxury of nicer clothes and of course, the freedom to spend it on cute dates. Never, has someone doted on her like this. Especially another girl, it was always Lexa who held the door.

Clarke was… flattering.

Eyeing past Clarke’s oddly goofy smile, Lexa attributed the gesture purely to her broken physical state and nothing else. It couldn’t possibly be anything else. Right?

Entering their room, Lexa maneuvers herself to sit her bed with feet dangling. Placing the crutches aside and taking a deep breath, exhaustion takes over. Though it was still early in the afternoon, barely past 4pm, the injury was also mentally straining.

“I bet you’re tired,” Clarke says.

_How did she know?_

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

“Here,” says Clarke, digging through the meds and opening one of the bottles, “You should take two now before going to sleep, otherwise it’ll hurt like hell when you wake up,” holding out her palm with two pills and a bottle of Gatorade in the other.

Lexa reaches out warily, light brushing fingertips as she takes the meds, “Thanks Clarke… I… can get my own meds, you don’t have to. My leg is broken, not my hands.”

Clarke smiles, “You’re funny,” meeting Lexa’s eyes with a light playfulness Lexa had trouble deciphering.

Cracking the Gatorade bottle open and swallowing the pain meds, “Thank you.”

Swinging her legs over, Lexa lies over of her sheets still in her dirtied soccer outfit, she’ll deal with figuring out how to shower later. But right now, her mind was having trouble focusing. Wandering thoughts that replay her contact with the ball and what she could have done differently in avoidance. At least she scored.

Thinking forward, Lexa’s going to be out a minimum of four to six weeks and it was an unsettling realization. She’ll be missing at least half the season. Half of her freshman season that she’ll never get back. All the hard work during soccer camp wasted and she’ll need to double to efforts to even hope to regain the shape she was in just this morning.

Curled up and staring at the wall, Lexa felt a hot tear escape her right eye, dripping across and gathering more from her left before landing with a soft plop on the pillow. Lexa couldn’t help it when a second tear fell as she tried desperately to blink them away, gulping the knot in her throat down.

Clarke’s shuffling behind her stops and Lexa was afraid Clarke heard, though Lexa swore she didn’t make a sound.

“Lexa?”

Lexa recognized the tone of voice now, the same tone that comforted her on the field when she was phasing in and out of consciousness from the pain. She didn’t want to respond, the crack in her voice would most definitely give her away.

“Lexa?” Clarke repeats, now placing a hand on her shoulder that Lexa also recognized as the same one that was stroking her back hours ago.

Clearing her throat, “What?”

“Are you okay?”

_Dammit, how did she know, again?_

Shrugging Clarke’s hand off her shoulder, “I’m fine Clarke,” Lexa bumbles. The sound of tears now obvious behind her voice.

“Lexa, look at me.”

“What? No. I’m fine,” forcing a stronger tone.

Lexa was always a lone wolf, and this was no exception. But Clarke was insistent.  

“Look at me.”

Turning, “What do you want Clarke?”

Spotting the redness in Lexa’s eyes made Clarke incredibly sad. She had been there and suspected the feeling of emotional pain and regret that came with the immobilization.

Leaning in, Clarke instinctively brushes a tear from Lexa’s face.

Lexa looks away, embarrassed as more hotness floods her eyes. Burying her face in her pillow to hide the shame, “Just leave me alone,” she mumbles into the pillow.

Except, Lexa feels Clarke take her in a light hug.

“Hey… It’s okay,” Clarke hushes.

The embrace unexpectedly brings more out of Lexa, a breakdown she hasn’t had since her mother died. Soccer was everything to her. It’s how she got into school, now set months back.

Lifting her feet from the floor, Clarke crawls alongside Lexa and scoots in to hug Lexa closer. The notion completely chaste. Pure care and amicability.

Giving in, Lexa shifts her face from the pillow onto Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke had changed into a clean hoodie, smelling of fresh detergent that hinted of lavender and Lexa let herself nuzzle in deeper, accepting Clarke’s generous comfort. Clarke’s embrace was strong and incredibly reassuring, and Lexa stayed there.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” pressing her lips into the top of Lexa’s head and gradually stroking Lexa’s hair.

Clarke held Lexa until the sobbing slowed to a stop, breath normalized, and Lexa drifted asleep.

-

After brushing a few brown strands aside, Clarke gently wiggles Lexa’s head from her shoulder and places it slowly on the pillow. Pulling one of her own blankets from atop her bed, Clarke tosses it snugly over Lexa before quietly leaving the room. 

Clarke was fucking starving, but couldn’t bear to move until Lexa fell asleep. Making a beeline to the dining commons, Clarke wanted to eat everything in sight after skipping lunch from Lexa’s accident.

Chowing down on a couple slices of pizza first followed by randomly seasoned chicken breast, massive amount of fries, and overcooked broccoli that Clarke was sure held zero nutritional value except for looking green, Clarke finishes her meal with a bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Hey Clarke, coming to the party tonight?” Clarke hears behind her. Turning, it was one of the boys she had briefly become acquainted with from the party the night before. Desperately trying to remember his name, Clarke didn’t want to be rude, especially since they spoke before the shots of Fireball.

“Umm Josh right?”

“Jeff.”

Assuming Lexa would be asleep for at least a few hours with a good chance for the rest of the night, Clarke contemplated going to another party. But, the urge to be by Lexa’s side in case she woke won and prompted her answer.

“Jeff, sorry. Not tonight.”

Jeff nods, “Okay, cool. See you around then?”

“See ya.”

Getting up, Clarke stops for an ice cream sandwich, eating it while instinctually grabbing a to-go box for Lexa. She had no idea what Lexa ate, so Clarke scooped a bit of everything she could fit in the box including folding two pieces of pizza on top and a second ice cream sandwich for Lexa before heading back to room.

Quietly entering, Lexa’s still sleeping as Clarke puts the food away and undresses to shower. Stepping into a hot cloud of steam, Clarke sinks her head back at the relaxing sensation, finally able to wash her hair that probably stunk from the soccer game this morning and scrubbing the dirt and grime under her fingernails.

Feeling extremely refreshed, Clarke glances at the clock just before getting dressed. It’s early, extremely early, especially for a Saturday night and moderately considering the party again. Clarke’s thoughts are interrupted when Lexa stirs and the decision is made. Wanting to stay for Lexa, Clarke finds herself putting on an old t-shirt and PJ sweats.

 

∞

 

A dull throb in her leg is the first thing she registers before opening her eyes. The room is dark except the light flashing of a white screen that illuminates the room ever so often. Shifting, Lexa feels the softness of an unfamiliar fleece blanket on top of her.

“Hey… how are you feeling?” she hears from across the room.

Pausing the laptop screen, Clarke pulls out her earbuds, hops off her bed and flips on the desk light.

“Is this yours?” Lexa tugs at the blanket as she sits up.

Clarke nods.

“Clarke… you don’t have to,” says Lexa, feeling vulnerable again as fresh memories of her breakdown surfaces, dragging the blanket off to try and give it back.

“It’s fine,” Clarke replies quickly, putting her hand on top of Lexa’s with reassurance, “Are you hungry?”

Lexa hadn’t thought much about her stomach with the throbbing ache in her leg as the dominating factor. But since Clarke asked, Lexa realized just how hungry she was and before she could even respond, Clarke is pulling out a Styrofoam box.

“Here,” says Clarke, “I don’t know what you like, so I got a little bit of everything… I got you an ice cream sandwich too, if you want,” trails Clarke.

Lexa is flattered beyond words, “Oh, um, thanks,” was all she could gather, opening the box of food.

Starting with obvious slices of pizza, Lexa follows Clarke’s movements back to her side of the room.

“What are you watching?” asks Lexa.

“Westworld, I just started.”

“Mmm,” Lexa hums with a mouthful in excitement and approval. Swallowing, “Oh my god, it’s so good. Dolores is so hot.”

“I know, right? I’d do Teddy too though, he’s pretty cute.”

“Teddy too?”

“Yep.”

“You can have him, I’ll take Dolores.”

“Deal,” says Clarke, as they look at each other with understanding.

Their conversation deepens to discussing characters and morality of the show’s concept, which would have gone further, except Clarke was only two episodes in. Lexa had to stop herself before spoiling it all.

“I can’t say, you should just keep watching Clarke, otherwise I’m going to give it all away.”

“Ugh, fine,” Clarke grabs her laptop and turns, “You um, wanna watch together?” Clarke says in a lightly shy tone.

Clarke is rewarded with Lexa’s full smile she’d never seen before. It was brilliant. Perfect teeth that brightened Lexa’s eyes into a stunning shade of green. A deep and rich emerald that sparkled like sunrays through an opulent rainforest. The sight reminded Clarke of her camping trips with her dad, particularly through Sequoia National Park. Lavish with endless Giant Sequoia trees so tall they touched the sky, humans dwarfed by their massive beauty. Except this time, Clarke was overwhelmed with Lexa’s apparent beauty.

“Clarke?”

Clarke didn’t register a single word Lexa said.

“Huh? I’m sorry, but what were you saying?” replies Clarke, shaking her head out of her own reverie. 

Putting her box of food down, Lexa seemed to have eaten almost everything, she was famished and wasn’t picky at all, mostly thankful for the amount of food Clarke had gotten her.

“I said, I definitely should get cleaned up first,” feeling much better and energized on a full stomach, “You should keep watching though,” says Lexa as she shuffles off her bed, reaching for her crutches.

“Oh, let me help you,” say Clarke, running to Lexa’s side.

“It’s okay, I’m fine Clarke. Really. You… you’ve been more than helpful.”

Clarke nods. She knew this about herself and could sometimes be too overbearing when trying to help, like her mother.

Lexa makes her way into the shower when Clarke restarts the show. Roughly 10 minutes in, Clarke hears an audible commotion in the bathroom that echoes past her headphones, several thuds followed by the tear and raking of shower curtain rings.

Hitting pause, “Lexa?!”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” except there was a very obvious struggle going on.

Clarke gets up and knocks on the door, “Lexa? Are you sure?”

“Yes! Don’t come in!” yells Lexa followed by the squeak of faucet knobs turning and rendering the water off, heavy swishes of the shower curtain trailed by the clinks of curtain rings against the rod.

“Goddammit, son of a bitch…uggghhhh… Clarke!”

Clarke cracks open the door so they could hear each other, “I swear I’m not coming in. What?”

“How do you keep this thing dry?”

“Did you put a garbage bag over it?”

“No, is that what I’m supposed to do?”

Lexa was awkwardly trying to shower with her foot outside the curtains, balancing on one leg when she fell.

“Yeah, I’d tuck a small towel around the top too.”

“What?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door, Clarke grabs a trash bag plus one of her small hand towels.

Knocking, “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Uhh…” Lexa wasn’t sure why she hesitated, she knew she had a great body and had never felt nervous about it before.

“Look, I promise I won’t look.”

“Fine.”

Entering, Clarke holds out the items through the shower curtain.

“Wait, what am I doing with the hand towel?”

Clarke pulls them back out, “Just stick out your cast and I can do it for you.”

“What? Clarke, give those back, I’m sure I can manage.”

Lexa didn’t like to be so dependent.

“Just like you managed not to fall in the shower.”

“Clarke…” Lexa says in an annoyed undertone.

“Just let me do it this once so you can see and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

“Okay fine,” sliding a small opening through the curtain and sticking her cast out for Clarke.

Wrapping the hand towel over the top entrance of the cast by Lexa’s knee and tying the garbage bag over the entire cast and towel, “There,” says Clarke.

“Thank you, Clarke,” says Lexa with added sincerity.

“You’re welcome.”

-

The door clicks open as Lexa exits the bathroom, wavy wet hair in a t-shirt and mesh shorts.

“Hey,” Clarke greets with a cute smile.

“Hey,” Lexa mirrors.

“Did you still wanna watch?”

“Yeah.”

Scooting sideways, Clarke makes room for Lexa on her bed. Slowly taking the invitation, Lexa wasn’t sure why she was being so timid, already having cried her heart out on Clarke’s shoulder hours ago. But, in a clearer state of mind now, Lexa takes a comfortable seat next to Clarke, shoulders lightly touching and thighs brushing. It was… nice.

“Aw man,” says Lexa after settling cozily against the wall and next to Clarke.

“What?”

“… Ice cream sandwich.”

“Oh, I’ll get it,” replies Clarke, easily sliding off the bed.

Handing the wrapped bar to Lexa, Clarke earns another smile from the brunette, who seemed to look prettier as time passed.  

“Thanks Clarke,” ripping it open, “Do you want half?”

“No thanks,” getting back up on the bed to start the show, “I already had one earlier.”

But Lexa breaks it in half anyways, handing it to Clarke, “Are you sure? C’mon…” she teases lightly. 

Clarke surrenders with a blush smile, taking the other half. Thank goodness the lights were off.  

Staying up just past three in the morning, both are too zonked to pay any more attention.

Lexa makes her way back to her bed, sliding in underneath her sheets plus Clarke’s added blanket that smelled similar to her hoodie.

All things considered, Lexa was feeling much better, primarily thanks to Clarke. The day was comprised of a winning soccer goal, plentiful dinner delivered, and TV binge. Aside from the breakage, Lexa couldn’t remember the last time she went to bed feeling so content.

“Good night Clarke,” Lexa says with a ghost of a smile in her lips.

“Good night Lexa.”


	8. Autumn Spices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! Keeping it rolling. All soft and feels here.

Waking up to soft shuffling noises and slow clicking of crutches, Clarke rolls around in her bed to the sight of Lexa getting ready. It’s early. Clarke picks up her phone, 6:18am early, twelve minutes prior to her own alarm. Soccer practice was at 7am.

It’s Monday. Sunday went by in a blur of western cowboys and cowgirls as the two spent the majority of the day watching the remainder of Westworld along with some light studying and two trips to the dining hall, lunch and dinner. While accompanying Lexa to the dining commons, Clarke automatically served as Lexa’s set of hands – grabbing an extra tray and filling it with Lexa’s requests. Their Sunday was pleasant, friendly and easy. Animosity long gone and their schedule of avoidance, forgotten.

“Lexa, what are you doing?” Clarke mumbles from across the room.

“I’m getting ready for soccer practice.”

Clarke scrunches her face in confusion, “What? Didn’t think I’d have to remind you, but your leg is broken, remember?”

Though room poorly lit, Clarke felt her roommate’s skeptical glance.  

“I’m not sleeping in while the rest of my team practices every morning. Plus, I had some ideas I wanted to share with Coach Kane,” replies Lexa as she hops around to get dressed, “And… now that it takes me twice as long to get ready, I have to get up earlier. Sorry… if I woke you.”

Clarke yawns while tossing her feet over the side of bed, “It’s alright, my alarm was about to go off anyway,” she says, reaching for her soccer bag and clothes.

Fully dressed and ready to go in fifteen minutes, Clarke is awaiting Lexa.

“Need me to help you carry anything?” Clarke offers.

“No thanks,” Lexa replies casually while shouldering her backpack, “I think I got it.”

Shuffling out the door, Clarke and Lexa are met with warm morning air, autumn approaching and no longer mucky with heavy humidity as temperatures gradually dropped. Both comfortable in t-shirts and shorts.

“Monday… you have your elective today, right?” Lexa asks as her crutches click alongside Clarke’s padded footsteps.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Painting 214.”

“214? So, not an intro course.”

Clarke shakes her head, _no._

Lexa figured Clarke must have submitted a portfolio of sort to skip the 101 into course.

“Is that…” Lexa was hesitant to ask, almost embarrassed at this point for not knowing, rooming with Clarke for the fourth week now, “Is that your major, art?”

“Uh… no…It’s currently biology.”

“You sound disappointed?”

Clarke shrugs, “Not really, just… torn. I like them both. But my mom being a doctor and all… was really excited when I put down biology.”

“What about double majoring?”

“Can’t, already looked into it. The coursework is so different, it’d double my workload and I won’t have time to play soccer,” Clarke says with a grim smile, “And well, soccer is kinda ‘footing’ the bill right now.”

“Ha,” Lexa chuckles at Clarke’s pun.

“Um… what’s your major?”

“Political science.”

“Is your elective Poli Sci 101 on Thursdays then?”

 “Uh, no. Astronomy 101.”

Clarke shoots Lexa a quizzical look, “Astronomy?”

“Yeah,” Lexa looks down shyly, but turns to meet Clarke’s eyes, “I uh, kinda have an obsession with the sky,” she replies admittedly, as if not many knew that about Lexa. Which was true.

Despite Lexa’s athletic, jock-like exterior, she was a bit of a nerd. Obsessed with sci-fi so much so, she didn’t care to pick between Star Wars or Star Trek because she loved them both, equally, solely due to the aspect of space and completely geeked out if anything came close to time travel and parallel universes. Lexa kept this facet of herself fairly hidden, mostly because of her father who rolled his eyes at her comic books, judged her DVD’s and when he was mad, threatened to throw away her signed dolls. Though he never did any of the sort, Lexa didn’t want to test her father’s patience, rarely defying authority in their military household. So, she tucked them away neatly in a tote under her bed and indulged sparingly.

“Then why don’t you major in astronomy?”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow, “Dad. He wanted me to join the Navy, like him. When I said I didn’t want to go, he was at least proud to see that I put down Poli Sci, major in something “useful”. His words, not mine. Play a part in government or whatever.”

“Hm,” Clarke nods.

Both girls look at each other with understanding, majors influenced by their parents.

-

They arrive to the field and Lexa breaks off to the sidelines, taking a seat and pulling out a pen and notebook.

“Morning, Lexa.”

“Morning, Coach.”

“It’s not mandatory for you to attend practice, Lexa. Just your presence at the games.”

“I know, but… it doesn’t feel right. The rest of the team practicing every morning.”

Coach Kane nods at Lexa’s commitment.

“Plus, I thought I could take some notes,” Lexa struggles to stand, but does so and balances on one foot, showing Kane her notebook, “I um, I have some play ideas?”

Kane takes a quick look at Lexa’s drawings, they were sound with notes on individual player’s strengths, weaknesses, etc.

“Hm, these look fairly good. Keep going and maybe we’ll sit down later this week and see how we can implement them during practice?”

Lexa smiles at her coach’s regard, “Thanks Coach.”

Depositing herself back down, Lexa watches her teammates practice. Given the opportunity to sit and observe, Lexa noticed. Clarke was _good._ Truly blinded by her own self-interest and initial dislike of the blonde, Clarke stood out even among the seniors. Not only fast, but strong. Brute strength and force when she kicked the ball, but also handled with neat precision. Lexa was impressed.

Lexa’s focus continued to be held by Clarke until the end of practice.

“Ready Lexa?”

“Uh… yeah…yeah,” says Lexa, shaking out of Clarke’s spell.

Looking down at her notebook, Lexa had taken zero notes, evidently too mesmerized while gawking at Clarke. Sliding everything into her backpack, Lexa pops up onto her good leg and Clarke automatically reaches down to pick up her crutches for her.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“So did you get any good notes?” Clarke starts as they head back to their dorm room.

“Yeah, yeah… great,” Lexa lies.

Reentering the dorm room, Lexa plops down onto her bed and pulls her laptop on her thighs. Pretending to browse, Lexa was really just trying to avoid staring at Clarke, gathering her clothes and about to shower.

-

Steam fills the top of the dorm room as Clarke exits the bathroom, and a gust of fresh soap and shampoo hits Lexa’s nose. It makes Lexa bite down on her lip, eyes trailing Clarke’s wet hair and neck flush from the hot water. Thankfully, Clarke was fully dressed, otherwise Lexa might have been caught drooling.

“Hey, I was going to stop by the bookstore after class, need anything?” Clarke offers while throwing her backpack over her left shoulder.

“Mm, no, not that I can think of.”

“Okay, well, text me if you change your mind,” says Clarke, stepping out the door.

“Oh wait, Clarke!”

Clarke turns.

“I um… don’t think I have your number?”

“Oh, right.”

Lexa pulls out her phone as Clarke spouts out seven digits and sends Clarke a text with her name and soccer ball emoji. She watches a grin emerge Clarke’s face, maybe she was smiling at the emoji.

“See ya after class.”

“I’ll be here…” Lexa trails.

∞

Lexa looks up as Clarke gets back from class with a few blank canvases and several sized drawing pads under her arm, undoubtedly from the bookstore.

“Hey, how was class?”

“Fine, we’re _finally_ going to get to starting painting next week. Can’t wait,” says Clarke with an eager smile, leaning the art supplies down against her desk.

“What are you watching?”

“Uh,” Lexa was hesitant, she wasn’t geeking out on space, but her other passion, soccer, with videos of her favorite plays from the World Cup pulled up.

And before Lexa could respond, Clarke wanders over and sees the grass filled screen at pause.

“What game are you watching?”

“Oh, it’s… an old game-”

Clarke leans further over for a better look.

“2014 World Cup, Germany vs Brazil,” Clarke instantly recognized the game, “ _That_ was a hell of a game. Germany was fucking unstoppable.”

Lexa smiles, initially timid of Clarke passing judgement, but instead, shared Lexa’s enthusiasm.

“Yeah,” Lexa nods, “It was like clockwork. Um, wanna watch the rest with me?”

Lexa watches as Clarke’s eyes gleam for a split second.

“Sure,” Clarke replies.

Feeling Clarke scoot up and alongside, Lexa shifts the laptop to rest on both their thighs, similar to what they had done all Saturday night and Sunday, with legs and shoulders softly brushing.

It wasn’t terribly awkward, since this was how they spent their weekend. Though, as time passed, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Lexa was beginning to resist the urge to place her arm behind Clarke. It was weird; Lexa had never felt like this, unable to act on her thoughts and feelings. Somehow hindered.

Back in high school, if she wanted to put her arm around a girl, she’d put her arm around a girl. But her relationship with Clarke was different, and Lexa didn’t know where their boundaries existed. Classmates. Teammates. Roommates. They were all three, but, mostly friendship? Then again, they’ve kissed, although that circumstance was too arbitrary to count and also during their enmity. Lexa felt… confused, unsure of what she wanted to do.

Determined to define everything and place into a neat box, Lexa crosses her arms, stuck analyzing the space between her and Clarke and paying little heed to the game she’d seen tens of times.

-

Unlike the girl sitting next to her, Clarke rarely overanalyzed and typically acted on instinct. Sometimes for the better, other times for the worst, but mostly for the better. This time, the idea of putting her arm around Lexa seemed right. Hell, she’s already kissed the girl, but right now, she just wanted Lexa a little bit closer. Clarke wanted to revisit the night she had Lexa’s head on her shoulder. Want to _feel_ the weight of Lexa against her.

Slowly, but surly, Clarke inches her right arm across, between the wall and Lexa’s lower back, feeling the brunette’s warmth radiate through. Clarke watches closely as Lexa turns her attention.

“Is this… alright?” Clarke asks softly.

It was difficult to read Lexa’s expression. She didn’t look mad or offended, but a predominant blank stare that had Clarke guessing, waiting with uncertainty.

Finally, green irises with large round pupils give Clarke a blink of consent and Clarke feels Lexa shift closer, rotating her body slightly for a snugger fit and leaning in to place her head on Clarke’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Clarke registers the sensation of Lexa’s arm run gently across her stomach.

Lexa looks up, “Is this, alright?”

Both testing the waters, ambivalent, yet actions compelled.

Looking down, Clarke nods at Lexa and tightens her grip around the brunette.

∞

Lexa wakes with a deep inhale filled with a floral and sweet scent, which was becoming more familiar. Sluggishly opening her eyes, she’s definitely in her own bed, but something is different…

Peering up, she’s curled up against Clarke with her right arm draped across the blonde’s stomach. Clarke is asleep as well. Lexa can’t recall how she’s horizontal, remembering their upright position, back against the wall while watching soccer. She must have fallen asleep and maybe Clarke had laid them down? Shifting and reaching for her pocketed phone, Lexa hears Clarke mumble at her movements.

Checking the time, it’s 12:30pm. She has class in half an hour. Well, they both have class in half an hour.

Propping herself up on her elbow, “Clarke?”

“Mm.”

“Clarke,” Lexa says a little louder, rubbing the blonde’s shoulder.

“Mm, what?”

“C’mon, get up, we have class.”

Clarke groans, but moves to lean up, “What time is it?”

“12:30.”

“Shit, we were asleep for almost two hours?”

“I guess,” Lexa shrugs with a small smile, “I don’t remember falling asleep.”

Clarke nods, now sitting fully upright, “Yeah… you passed out like two minutes after I hit play,” stretching, “So I just turned it off and I guess I… fell asleep too.”

Neither addressed it head on, but essentially had the best mid-morning nap together. They look at each other with small, somewhat guilty grins, like they had gotten away with something. It paralleled the feeling of sneaking out of the house at night or letting someone in through the window when your parents are asleep.

“C’mon,” says Lexa while sliding off the bed, “We should get going. Class is across campus and will probably take me twenty minutes to get there.”

Gathering their book bags, they proceed to class together, Clarke walking patiently alongside Lexa.

∞

The weeks continue with a sustained closeness that could best be defined as “newly found best friends with snuggle benefits”. An interesting place to be, undoubtedly, but neither Clarke nor Lexa had any complaints and simply, went with it.

With practically the same schedule, they were inseparable. Aside from their electives apart, Clarke and Lexa spent every waking and none waking hour together. Sitting next to each other during class, dining, or simply studying together at various locations throughout the campus – the library, student union, or coffee shop.

Back in their room, books, belongings, and bodies easily crossed the invisible plane, feet kicked up on one another while lying and studying on each other’s beds. Additionally, Clarke’s fleece blanket found a new permanent home on Lexa’s bed.

Weekends consisted of more binge watching and held the majority of their snuggle sessions. Clarke lying across Lexa’s stomach, Lexa spooning Clarke, vice versa and variations in between. Sometimes, Lexa would allow herself to thread her fingers through Clarke’s hair. Always simple gestures, appreciative gestures. Meaningful, but chaste. Lexa’s feelings had transformed into a deeper appreciation for the blonde. Kind, intelligent, and caring.

While Lexa continued to sit on the sidelines during soccer practice and games, was fully mentally engaged. She shared her observations and plays with Coach Kane, who graciously took some of her ideas into consideration and Lexa really felt proud to contribute. The Stanford Cardinals maintained an undefeated record.

Clarke took notice. Lexa’s work ethic was unquestionable; dedicated, smart, and driven. Unbarred by her broken leg, Lexa acted as the unofficial assistant coach, openly giving tips and pointers to any of her teammates who were interested but didn’t force herself on anyone. A quality leadership style Clarke found herself observing and, enjoying. Lexa had suggestions for Clarke too, which bettered her position, and thus, bettered her play. Clarke routinely lead in points through goals, but this year, was the first with equal assists and goals. She received a peak into Lexa’s genius mind, a tactful playmaker. It was fun and challenging.

Back in their room, Lexa was typically the first to fall asleep during anything and Clarke found herself occasionally tracing the features on Lexa’s face. Lexa was pretty, though Clarke didn’t feel the impulse to kiss her, like Lexa was too beautiful to be disturbed and instead, regarded the pretty brunette in contempt silence. Often, Clarke would toss her blanket over the brunette and tuck her in before returning to her bed.

∞

“Three more days, you excited?” asks Clarke as she bounces a tennis ball to Lexa across from her.

They were doing laundry, sitting atop a washer and dryer each, and playing with a tennis ball while waiting.

Lexa looks down at her cast, dirtied around the edges and signed by her teammates, signed by Clarke. In addition to the signatures, Clarke had drawn several cartoonish pictures on it. Soccer themed, couple of silly cloud-rainbows, and finally, stick trees and mountains. 

Five weeks had gone by incredible fast, it’s early October with autumn in full bloom. The smell of rusty orange leaves after a rain shower, the cool, misty air in the mornings and best yet, return of pumpkin spice lattes.

“Yeah, of course,” replies Lexa with a small huff, tossing the ball back.

Clarke caught the huff.

“They why do you look apathetic?”

“I just… uh, nevermind.”

“Just what, Lex?”

“I shouldn’t be complaining… Like the doc said, it was a clean break and at least I didn’t need surgery.”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Clarke looks at Lexa expectedly.

“It’s just, I haven’t worked out in weeks. I’m… gonna suck compared to everybody else. I really probably shouldn’t play until next season, when I’m 100%.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke dramatizes with the roll of her eyes and bounces the ball to Lexa, “You’ll be back in no time.”

Lexa looks at Clarke with doubtful glance and bounces the ball back.

“Don’t look at my like that,” Clarke responds, “Look,” throwing the ball this time, “How about I work out with you?”

It draws Lexa’s interest. “What do you mean?”

“I still remember all the PT exercises and we’ll go to the gym every day. We can go running in the morning, before soccer practice? And, if you want, we can spend all weekend on the field? Amanda Bynes this shit.”

Lexa laughs, “Did you seriously just reference Amanda Bynes for soccer?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you see that movie? ‘She’s the Man’ where she pretends to be her twin brother so she can play soccer on the boy’s team?”

“Embarrassingly, yes,” ball bounce, “Though she just looked like a lesbian playing soccer to me.”

Clarke lets out a cackle as she caught the tennis ball.

“But really, you’d do all that?” Lexa continues.

“Yeah,” Clarke replies easily with a nonchalant shrug, “You’d do the same for me.”

Lexa hadn’t thought about it in weeks, forgoing her attempt to define their relationship. All she knew was that she cared for Clarke. And yes, she would have done the same if they were swapped positions. At this point, Lexa would do anything for Clarke.

“Hey,” bounce, “Wanna go to the coffee shop after this?” Clarke asks, “I’m craving a pumpkin spice latte.”

Lexa smiles, “Sure, but only if I buy.”


	9. Solo Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some training, some school, some partying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my real life priorities are shifting, so I'll have less time to dedicate to writing and my updates will be less frequent - across all my fics. 
> 
> I was going to split this chapter in half, it's probably the longest chapter I've written so far. But, you're all worth it, so enjoy!

It’s been two days since Lexa’s cast was removed, and suffice it to say, a very frustrating two days for Lexa. While her foot could bear her body weight, it was extremely unstable, and she still required at least one crutch for balance.

On their walk to class, Lexa sighs in disappointment.

“What’s the matter Lex?” Clarke asks.

“I- I just didn’t think I’d still needed a crutch two days out of my cast,” Lexa replies.

“Oh yeah, sorry. It doesn’t happen overnight. Your first physical therapy appointment is today though, right?”

Lexa nods in response.

“You’ll be good. They’ll check everything out, give you some exercises and we can work on them together,” Clarke says casually, tuning to look at her new best friend with reassurance and adds a nudge. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Lexa isn’t sure how serious or dedicated Clarke is to her cause but getting to know Clarke over the past couple of months has given her a good indication that Clarke meant, and still means, everything she said. A loyal, honest, and trustworthy friend, Lexa categorized Clarke as the type that’s “always there for you”. It made Lexa happy to know someone had her back.

Back at home, that someone was Anya. But since Anya isn’t here, Lexa’s grateful for Clarke. Not in the sense that she’s replaced Anya, but Lexa simply didn’t anticipate on making a new best friend. Especially one so quickly and easily- expressly one she used to loathe.

∞

“Lexa.”

Stirring from sleep, Lexa groans at the sound of her name. It’s a softer call, nothing rushed or urgent.

“Lexa.”

“Mm, what Clarke?”

“C’mon, get up.”

“What?” Lexa squints her eyes, “Do we have class?” And proceeds to tilt her head, waiting for her brain to catch up, “But… isn’t it Saturday?”

“Yes, it’s Saturday and the field is open from nine to eleven, before the ultimate frisbee-ers take over. Get up.”

Lexa sits up and rubs her sleepy eyelids with a somewhat disgruntled look on her face, eyes adjusting to the sight of Clarke, who is fully dressed in workout gear.

“You aren’t kidding, are you Clarke?”

“No, why would I be kidding? Gotta get you back on the field,” Clarke replies and proceeds to pack Lexa’s soccer bag for her. “At least get a few games in before playoffs. I think you’ll definitely make playoffs. Here,” Clarke tosses Lexa her bag and it lands on the brunette’s lap in a light thump.

It’s a nice Saturday morning, autumn dew resting on the field with the lingering smell of fresh cut grass. Both Clarke and Lexa are comfortable in shorts and a thin hooded sweatshirt. Upon their arrival, Clarke pulls out a very, very old looking bound notebook.

“What’s that?” Lexa asks.

“My old training book,” Clarke replies and tosses the notebook in Lexa’s direction.

Credit to her reflexes, Lexa snatches the notebook midair and proceeds to flip through the pages. The notebook is filled with a series of exercises, handwritten in Clarke’s own writing- block lettering, a little choppy, but clearly legible. Seemingly random, it’s a mix of soccer plays, likely Clarke’s favorites, agility drills, and weightlifting routines.

“There are some drills and exercise from when I broke my leg,” Clarke explains. “C’mon, let’s get started.”

Following one of the first pages, Clarke has Lexa doing pushups, sit ups, and random balancing movements in addition to the exercises prescribed by Lexa’s physical therapist.

Nearly two hours later, the sun is rising over head and despite the cool temperature, Lexa is stripped down to her tank top with sweat coming out of every pore. Although Clarke had done every exercise with her, it was with a considerable less amount of effort and Clarke is barely breaking a sweat across her brow.

Lexa collapses on the grass at the end of the last drill, exhausted and shading her eyes with her forearm from the sun.

“Fuck, I’m so outta shape,” say Lexa, breathless on her back.

“Nah,” Clarke replies, squirting water in her mouth, “you’re doing great. Water?”

Too tired to sit up, Lexa opens her mouth, “Ah.”

Clarke glances down at Lexa, smiling in amusement and it crosses her mind to maybe squirt water across the brunette’s face, make Lexa laugh- or piss her off. Clarke’s unsure if they’re there yet. If their friendship has crossed into the realm of practical joking. She decides not to betray the brunette at this initial opportunity. There’ll be more opportunities, Clarke thinks to herself, projecting their friendship forward. So, she saves the notion for another time and kneels to kindly aim water into Lexa’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Lexa replies, slowly rolling up and sitting with knees bent.

Instinctively, Clarke steps in front of Lexa, offering her help up. They link hands with thumbs interlocked and wrists crossed. Lexa’s grip is nice, Clarke decides. It’s particularly comfortable, firm, yet relaxed, natural.

Lexa pops up and Clarke can feel the brunette’s athleticism through their hold. Lexa’s quick, agile like a cat, silent as she stood, though still catching her breath.

“Thanks,” Lexa says again, more quietly this time considering their faces are inches apart and smiles genuinely at Clarke.

Nodding in response, Clarke reciprocates Lexa’s smile before gathering their bags. The girls return to their room and their Saturday falls schedule. After showering individually, they sit together for lunch, study in the afternoon with Clarke making a mid-day coffee run- two pumpkin spice lattes, followed by dinner, and ending with their next Netflix conquest.

It’s a little routine, yes. But they like it. Enjoy each other’s company. It’s easy. So easy. Neither would have guessed, neither could have been paid to be the others roommate all those months ago, but now, indivisible.

“What do you want to watch?” Lexa asks.

“There’s a lot of hype about that new show… Something carbon?”

“Oh yeah, Altered Carbon. Wanna give it a shot?”

Clarke replies with an impartial, “Sure,” casually sitting and scooting herself onto Lexa’s bed.

Lexa clicks through Netflix’s main screen and places her laptop on her desk prior to hitting play. The series begins, and she leans back on her pillow, automatically welcoming Clarke in a familiar hold with Clarke’s head, resting on her right shoulder.

Clarke hugs Lexa, just a little bit, and adjusts for comfort, though they don’t hold hands. They don’t touch skin, always remaining over of clothes. A sort of unspoken notion and didn’t want to disturb the way things are going, both happy with their special friendship.

“Same time tomorrow morning?” Lexa asks with the show intro flashing before them.

“Mm-hm,” Clarke hums into Lexa’s shoulder, “you won’t be too sore,” Clarke’s voice suggests playfulness, and couldn’t skip this second opportunity. She already passed at squirting water at her best friend, but for some reason, feels a little safer in their current environment.

Reaching down, Clark gives Lexa’s outer left thigh a gripping squeeze, fully knowing that Lexa was sore from the day’s activities, “Will ya?”

“Ah!” Lexa yelps unexpectedly as her body jolts up from the pained sensation. “Son of bitch Clarke,” and goes straight for the blonde’s ribs, _tickling_.

Clarke shrieks with merriment, “Lex!” instinctively tucking her elbows into her sides and rolling into a tight ball.

But Lexa doesn’t relent, laughing as she continues to tickle Clarke. “Apparently not as sore as your ribs are going to be!”

“No, Lex!” Clarke’s still laughing, grabbing Lexa’s wrist when she can, but Lexa somehow always managing to maneuver out. “God dammit, you’re strong…” Clarke says through her teeth while attempting to headbutt her face into Lexa’s chest for a weighted advantage. But, Lexa unexpectedly embraces Clarke in a tight hold and rolls them around, rendering the blonde on her back. Clarke screams a giggling response as Lexa continues to fiddle her fingers along Clarke’s sides, straddling and pinning the blonde’s legs down.

Finally, Clarke surrenders, “Okay! Okay, Lex! Stop! Please, I give up, stop!”

Lexa stops with their chests still resonating with laughter. She crawls alongside Clarke and lays back down with a lingering smile.

Clarke fixes her tousled hair, running her fingers a few times through before blowing the last piece out of her eyes. Fluently, they settle down to the way they were, with Clarke on Lexa’s shoulder and turn their attention back to the screen.

That’s how they remain for the next few hours, and that’s how they fall asleep.

∞

Three weeks later, Lexa is almost back to 100% and has started practicing again with the team the latter part of the week. Of course, Lexa had to credit much of her excelled improvement to Clarke, who joined her with added hours spent lifting at the gym lifting, running at the break of dawn, and practicing when the field is vacant.

“C’mon, giddy up!”

“Clarke,” Lexa peers over her shoulder at the blonde on her back. “You say that one more time and I’m going to drop you down these stairs,” she says flatly.

“Then get going! You have to beat yesterday’s time,” Clarke continues.

Lexa is running up the bleacher stairs with Clarke on piggyback, five sets and progressively improving her daily time. After racing up the last set of stairs, Lexa releases Clarke in an easy hop. Despite her slender frame, Clarke’s discovered that Lexa is strong, almost to the point of deception. Their time at the gym graciously displayed Lexa’s strength, squatting near twice her own body weight and gradually improving progress.

“Time?” Lexa asks.

“10:13.”

“Dammit, so close,” replies Lexa, aiming to make it under ten minutes.

“Wanna go again?”

Lexa shakes her head, “We should head back. Study for midterms this week.”

“Alright,” Clarke easily agrees, “what do you want to work on first?”

Lexa scrunches her face, “Wanna work on that calc problem?” she proposes.

Clarke responds with a puke face, “Gross, you and calculus. What about biology?”

“What? So I find math problems… strangely calming,” Lexa replies, routinely completing the optional and extra-credit equations for hobby. “Why is it always biology with you, you don’t even need to study for bio,” Lexa retorts, Clarke with the highest grade in their biology class. 

“’Cause I like it,” Clarke simply replies.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Lexa offers.

“Go.”

“One, two, three.”

“Dammit!” Clarke loses the first round, her rock to Lexa’s paper.

“One, two, three.”

Both scissor. (Ha)

“One, two, three.”

“Fuck,” Lexa’s scissor to Clarke’s rock.

“One, two, three.”

“Yes!” Lexa throws rock at Clarke’s scissor.

“One, two, three.”

“Uhn! Take that!” They tie with Clarke’s paper to Lexa’s rock.

“Moment of victory.”

“One, two, three.”

Two rocks.

“One, two, three.”

Two papers. They smile at the anticipation. Who’s it going to be?

“One, two, three.”

Two rocks again.

“One, two, three.”

“Yes!” Lexa exclaims, palming over Clarke’s fisted rock.

“Ugh… wonderful,” Clarke sighs.

“C’mon, do you really hate it that much?”

“Not really, nah,” Clarke chuckles, “my dad was an engineer.”

Lexa knew the basics about Clarke’s mom, that she’s a doctor and goes by Abby, but this is the first Clarke’s mentioned her dad. Lexa didn’t like to make assumptions, but suspected divorce and never pushed the issue.

“Was?” Lexa cocks her head as they leave the field and walk towards their dorm.

She’s completely unprepared for Clarke’s next response.

“He um… passed away, a few years ago,” Clarke replies in sunken voice.

Lexa stops dead in her tracks. “What?! Oh my god, Clarke? I’m- I’m…” Lexa stumbles over her words, shocked.

“It’s okay Lex,” Clarke puts her hand on Lexa’s elbow, “It just… kinda came out. Sorry. But, I’m okay.”

Lexa’s mouth is agape with speechlessness, because she can relate. Memories of her deceased mother surface and Lexa leans into Clarke’s grasp, pulling the blonde in for a tight embrace.

Clarke doesn’t understand the way Lexa’s hugging her, different from their snuggle sessions and naps. It feels _personal_.

“Lexa?” Clarke whispers into Lexa’s ear while returning the brunette’s hold.

Except the brunette remains silent, remains still, holding Clarke. Lexa’s never verbalized her mother’s death to anyone. Everyone at school knew when it happened, so the sequence of words has never formed in her mouth. Until now, and even still, Lexa can only communicate the impression across, avoiding the word “died”.

“Um… my mom, too,” Lexa says quietly against Clarke’s ear. “Four years ago…”

She feels Clarke tighten her grip just before loosening, leaning back to look Lexa in the eyes. Undoubtedly, Clarke’s eyes are filled with understanding, but there’s also a certain, optimistic expression on Clarke’s face. It’s comforting… and makes Lexa push out a wry smile.

Clarke drops their embrace but brings her hand over Lexa’s upper chest to hover over her heart and genuinely says, “I’m sorry.”

Lexa’s hand drifts up and cups Clarke’s, “I’m sorry, too,” Lexa replies, nodding in appreciation while also feeling remorse for Clarke’s loss.

Their hands fall to their sides, but easily thread together. The moment called for it; a hand hold of understanding, of rumination, of trust.

Finally, it’s time to let go. A natural break that’s mutually understood, and they step off together in easy silence, returning to their dorm. Their dwelling. Their home.

∞

“Fuck! My brain is fried!” Clarke shouts and outwardly throws herself on her bed to physically express her mental fatigue. “Did you get that last equation?”

Lexa climbs onto her own bed and presses her face in the coolness of her pillow before replying, “I think so, but I’m not sure. I started and just went with it. I didn’t have enough time to go back and check.”

“At least you started it,” Clarke scoffs.

“Actually, I skipped around, I didn’t have time to get back to number three. I don’t think anybody had enough time to finish and hopefully the graded curve with show it.”

Clarke sighs as she rolls over to stare at the ceiling, “Whatever, I don’t even care anymore. I’m just glad it’s over.”

They successfully survived their first week of mid-terms together and it’s Friday afternoon. A bonus for mid-terms week, no soccer practice and no weekend game. They had a bi-week, a gap in their game schedule to accommodate for their academics.

“Me too,” Lexa replies.

“I’m so ready to get wasted.”

With a heavy “on-the-road” soccer game schedule leading up to mid-terms, they hadn’t been to a party in weeks.

“I’m in, but after I take at least a four-hour nap,” Lexa replies.

“Okay,” Clarke rolls over and curls herself towards the wall, closing her eyes. “See you in four hours.”

“Night.”

∞

“Clarke,” Lexa says lightly, carefully rubbing Clarke’s arm to wake her. “Clarke.”

“Mm,” Clarke’s left arm whacks at the air, meaning to deter Lexa.

Lexa smacks her hand out of mid-air.

“Ow.”

“Oh yeah right, like that really hurt. Get up Clarke, the dining hall closes in fifteen minutes if we want to eat before going out.”

Food. Yes, food is definitely important and Clarke springs up. “Fifteen minutes?!”

“Yeah, I _just_ woke up, and I’m fucking starving. Hurry up, let’s go,” Lexa taps Clarke’s cheek and Clarke turns away with a grin.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Clarke replies, scooting off her bed and sliding directly into her shoes.

They run to the dining hall with ten minutes to spare. Leftover, heat lamp dried food isn’t the best, but hey, it’s better than nothing and the girls eat what they can. They exit with giant soft-serve ice cream cones in their hands, greedily licking the sweet treat on their walk back.

Preparations to go out are unhurried, it’s still early at a quarter past nine, though Clarke and Lexa bypass some of their dorm mates, eagerly dressed to get drunk, get laid.

-

“Kim’s hosting a party at her place, looks like most of the team is going to be there. Wanna go meet them first? Pre-game?” Clarke asks, putting her phone down from the text messages.

“Yeah, I guess we could. Kim’s on Magnolia Street right, just across campus?” Lexa replies, blow drying the last of her wet hair.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?” Lexa asks, putting down the blow dryer and turning for Clarke’s opinion. Lexa is wearing a pair of dark jeans, red converse with a matching flannel, collar extruding from a thin, half-zipped styled hoodie topped by a darker jacket.

Lexa looks nice, really nice. Clarke is used Lexa in casual attire, sporty workout clothes like sweatpants, mesh shorts, and various sport logo hooded sweaters. This Lexa, the Lexa dressed to go out, is undeniably… hot. Though Tom-boyish, Lexa wears everything fittingly with her long, chestnut hair down and masters a very androgynous look.

Clarke replies through the mirror while tracing a small amount of eyeliner on, “Honestly, Lexa…you look fucking hot.”

A silly grin and sparkle flashes in Lexa’s eyes at Clarke’s approval, at her best friend’s approval, “Yeah? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Hat, or no hat?” Lexa asks, pulling the SnapBack lid from her closet and shading her eyes with a joking smirk, jibing at what happened the last time she wore her SnapBack.

Clarke chuckles, “Hey, we don’t talk about those days. The BC days.

BC. Before cast, as in, before Lexa broke her leg when they hated each other.

Lexa’s eyes remain hidden under the bill, but holds out her hands in innocence, “I didn’t say a word, just asking.”

Clarke partly rolls her eyes as she puts her make up away, turning to actually look at Lexa. She steps into Lexa’s personal space and reaches for the lid of the cap, lifting it up, “Keep the hat,  but don’t hide your eyes.” _Because they’re nice, you have nice eyes._

“Why not?” Lexa pulls it back down, “little bit of mystery, plus I gotta make them earn it.”

Clarke laughs, “Them?”

“You know, hot girls.”

“Yeah, I’ll see it when I believe it Lexa Woods,” Clarke jokes, throwing on a dark jean jacket of her own and pulling her hair out of the collar. Pink dye, considerably faded with Clarke’s natural hair color coming back in. “Still been all talk so far.”

Lexa scoffs, “So I’ve been a little preoccupied with recovering from a broken leg,” she sarcasms. “Sorry, if you haven’t noticed.”

“So, you have no excuse tonight?”

“Nope, five bucks says I get a date from the party before you do.”

“You’re on Woods.”

Clarke rarely calls Lexa by her last name, and it’s only during their competitive spirit. Lexa decidedly likes it, just a bit. Feels special.

“You know, odds are significantly against you?” Clarke says, opening their door to exit.

“Sure, you date guys too- but trust me, all the girls with have their eyes on me, not you.”

Clarke laughs again, it echoes down the stairwell, “You’re painful,” she cracks.

“Painfully good looking,” Lexa nudges Clarke, pulling her lid even lower.

“Oh my god, puke,” Clarke chuckles, pushing open the heavy stairwell door.

Lexa laughs, “Okay yeah, that one was pretty terrible,” shedding the faux-charm, lifting to turn her hat backwards to reveal her eyes and reverting to usual herself.

“Do you _really_ pick up girls like that?”

“No, no at all,” Lexa clucks, “ _that_ would be embarrassing.”

“You find one with one of those cheesy pick up lines, make that ten dollars.”

Lexa snickers at the challenge, “Done.”

They make the trek across campus, like they do during the day, walking to class. The campus is peaceful at night, everything lit in an orange glow under the sidewalk lamps, crickets chirping with a few other students wandering in different directions across the way.

The girls arrive to the house and while music isn’t blasting out the windows, there’s very audible chit chatter of at least forty or fifty people, which isn’t anticipated.

“I thought it was just the team and we were pre-gaming?” Lexa says.

“I thought so too. Apparently not and this is the place to be. C’mon, we should go in and at least find Kim, she really wanted us to come.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As they approach the entrance, they’re greeted by Kim, their teammate. A very likable, jolly, senior, who played hard, and partied even harder.

“Clarkey! Lexie! My two favorite freshies!” yells Kim as they step through the front door.

Kim throws her arms in the air in celebration of their arrival despite double fisting a beer and solo cup. She looked like she’d probably been drinking since noon and runs at Clarke and Lexa in a full speed hug, squeezing them together. Her embrace is uncomfortable, Kim is remarkably strong- heavy built and plays on the club rugby team when not playing soccer. _And god, she smelled of awful booze, the spilled and dried kind._ Kim’s a great person, a great friend, and one of the best teammates to have, Clarke and Lexa remind themselves.

“So glad you two came!” Kim releases her clutch and Clarke and Lexa feel like they can breathe again. “Let’s get you two babies something to drink, c’mon,” Kim spins around, impressively balanced in her inebriated state and lead Clarke and Lexa to the kitchen stocked with a mystery punch in a massive Gatorade cooler and assortment of canned cheap beers.

Lexa’s about to reach for a beer when Kim shoves a cup of punch at her chest, “Here!” And doing the same at Clarke, “it gets better as you drink.”

Clarke and Lexa sip, hesitantly, nodding and trying not the spit the punch back into the cup. It tastes like rubbing alcohol with a tablespoon of red Koolaid. Thankfully, Kim is also easily distracted as several more of their teammates arrive and Kim bolts past them, “Sara! Mich! Heather!”

“I think that’s the drunkest I’ve seen her,” Clarke says.

“Definitely,” Lexa replies, not knowing why she’s still sipping. “Anyway,” Lexa looks around the room, determined to continue their conversation from their walk here. “What do you think I should go with, ‘I lost my number, can I have yours’ or ‘Wanna join the party in my pants’?”

Clarke laughs, “I’ll give you twenty if you get somebody to join the party in your pants, Lex.”

Briefly scanning the packed house, it’s not surprising that the majority of attendees are part of Stanford’s athletic department, invited by Kim herself, with the most of the women’s soccer team present, men’s soccer team, a few football players, basketball – men and women, rugby, and scattered with other variations of students.

Among them, Lexa spots a nice looking girl who’d maybe buy off on the ridiculous pick up line, but also, someone she’d invest some time in. She’s athletic looking, tall, legs for days type tall. Though Lexa didn’t want to stereotype too much, wouldn’t be surprised if she played basketball.

“Alright,” says Lexa with determination, and flipping her cap forward to shield her eyes, “I’m going in.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Good luck, Romeo.”

Lexa shouts over her shoulder, “I don’t need luck, thanks!”

Snaking her way through the pockets of people, Lexa arrives to her destination.

“Hi,” Lexa greets with a big smile.

“Hey,” she replies. Her voice is sweet. And taller than she appeared, taller than Lexa and Lexa actually has to turn her bill aside just to see the girl’s eyes. A deep, and rich hazel.

“What’s your name?”

“Costia,” she replies with a smile.

“I’m Lexa,” extending a hand.

Costia shakes it, almost shyly, but it’s a nice grasp. Friendly.

“So, are you a friend of Kim’s or…?”

Costia nods, “Yes, I’ve known Kim since our sophomore year, and we have a class together this semester. Plus, some of my teammates are here- I’m on the basketball team.”

“Cool, I play soccer with Kim.”

“I haven’t seen you before,” Costia says with curiosity, “wait, what year are you?”

“I’m a freshman,” Lexa says plainly.

“Oh, oh gosh,” Costia averts her eyes. “You’re little.”

“So,” Lexa shrugs without care.

Costia’s a senior. Not like the dynamics are as dramatic as high school, but still.

“Sorry, um, Lexa, I’m 21- going on 22, and you’re… not even legal to drink,” Costia eyes Lexa’s drink. “You’re cute, but... you know...” Costia begins to lean away.

“Oh hey! Wait- wait- ” Lexa says, immediately putting her drink down, “it’s not a big deal, c’mon,” and nudges her chin up in confidence, “just talk to me, five minutes? Hey, I’m at least voting age,” and shoots an award-winning smile at the dark haired girl’s direction.

Costia crosses her arms, deciding. There is a certain charm to the brunette. “You have five minutes.”

They strike up a conversation, Lexa particularly liked this senior and forgoes the ‘party in her pants’ line to avoid looking like a total ass, and easily gives up that $20 Clarke betted.

She keeps Costia past the initially allotted five minutes to ten, fifteen, thirty.

Costia laughs, “Leave me alone, just because I’m from South Lake Tahoe doesn’t mean I have to know how snowboard or ski.”

“It’s like growing up in Hawaii and not knowing how to swim,” Lexa deadpans. “You’re a walking oxymoron.”

The brunette is smooth and Costia has to give it to her, laughing. And Lexa, though young, has a peculiar maturity to her, able to hold a true conversation, sarcastic, and admittedly, suave.

“My passion is basketball, not falling in the snow,” says Costia.

“I get it,” Lexa replies, “My passion is soccer, but even I know how to snowboard. You have no excuse Costia. Not even an attempt?”

“Nope.”

“So, you don’t even know if you like it or not?”

“Um... no.”

“Well, that’s that. Now you have to promise me.”

“What, I don’t have to promise you anything,” Costia replies with a grin, swirling the last of her punch.

“Okay, if not me then you. Promise yourself, that you’ll at least attempt a snowboarding lesson the next time you’re home? It’s practically your backyard. Baffles me.”

Lexa is convincing- smart, confident, reassuring.

“Alright, alright, then I promise myself,” Costia succumbs.

“Perfect,” Lexa smiles in response.

She’s about to ask Costia out, something simple, like coffee. But in that brief second, before she does, Lexa absentmindedly scans the room and it occurs to her she hasn’t seen Clarke. She hasn’t seen Clarke in a while, not even in passing. She’s seen everybody else on her team, Kim, obviously meandering around since it’s her house, and can easily eyeball the rest in attendance- Sara, Michelle, Heather, Kate, Alex, Jill, and Vicky. 

Lexa feels an uncomfortable tug to look for Clarke, a strange sixth sense. She only needs a split-second meet of eyes for confirmation. Find blue in the mix of bodies.

“Hey, do you need another drink?” Lexa offers Costia, an honest reason to leave and return.

“Um, sure.”

“Another one of… those?” Lexa checks, remembering the not-so-great punch, if you can even call it that.

“Just a beer is fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Lexa turns and winds her way through the living room and into the kitchen. No blonde. She pushes past to the back door, swinging the squeaky screen door open to scan the backyard. The backyard is small, making it easy for Lexa to visually survey, but not easy enough since there’s still no Clarke.

Lexa begins to wonder if Clarke maybe left with somebody, but that would be peculiar of Clarke to leave without telling her. She pulls out her phone to see if maybe Clarke texted or called.

Nothing.

Doubling back, Costia’s beer is just going to have a wait and Lexa squeezes past more bodies into the hallway. Maybe Clarke’s in the bathroom or making out with somebody in one of the bedrooms.

That’s when it happens. When Lexa spots her and her green eyes grow wide.

-

30 minutes ago.

Clarke watches Lexa walk away towards a very pretty girl with caramel skin, black hair, and dark eyes. She’s taller than Lexa by at least two inches, maybe three. Good for Lexa, Clarke thinks and turns away.

The kitchen is full of random snacks- chips, pretzels, cheese balls and several boxes of half opened pizza. Clarke migrates towards the food just to get the taste of “punch” out of her mouth and pulls out a lukewarm slice of cheesy goodness topped with pepperoni. Lots of pepperoni.

“Hey Clarke!”

Clarke turns with a strand of cheese coming out of her mouth and some pizza sauce on her cheek. It’s a little embarrassing, but Clarke’s not too bothered by it, nodding at the call of her name.

She swallows quickly and puts down her drink on the counter to wipe her face with the back of her hand.

“Jeff,” she remembers this time.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to… you can finish eating your pizza,” he says nicely and proceeds to join her, grabbing a slice for himself.

They talk. Small talk. With blonde hair and brown eyes, Jeff’s from San Jose, youngest of two brothers and a sister. He plays baseball, short stop. Clarke’s never dated a baseball player before. She considers. He’s decent looking. Passable.

She reaches for her cup of punch, taking a few more sips to wash down the pizza. Kim was right, the punch seemed to taste better the more she drank, halfway done and wonders if she should just pound the rest. _Nah_. It’s still too early, Clarke wants to last somewhat later into the evening and puts her cup back down.

She looks back up at Jeff, still considering.

“Hey, you um, wanna go to a different party?” Jeff asks.

“Where at?”

He leans forward, signaling as if it’s a secret and Clarke plays along.

He whispers, “Um.. the party going on in my pants.”

Clarke _bursts_ out into laughter. This cannot be.

“Did Lexa put you up to this?” She immediately asks.

“What? No, who’s Lexa? C’mon, you wanna get out of here or what?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

The irony in Jeff’s pick-up line is too much, she can’t take him seriously and decides. “Um, no thanks Jeff,” Clarke says politely, feeling a little woozy from her drink. “Excuse me, but I um, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Clarke picks up her punch cup from the counter and sneaks past Jeff, out the kitchen and down the hallway.

That’s when it hits her. A sudden rush of dizziness.

“Woah,” Clarke says under her breath, placing her hand on the hallway wall for balance and looks down at her drink. She didn’t drink _that_ much. Half a cup. Mostly eating pizza and chips, talking to Jeff.

She wonders. _Did Jeff put something in my drink?_

No. She was facing and talking to him to the whole time. (It really wasn’t Jeff.) Somebody else, someone else could have dropped something in her open cup, sitting unattended on the counter.

 _Aw fuck, how can I be so stupid?_ You read about it, you hear about, you watch a ridiculous low-budget awareness video about it when you first get to school. But never suspect it, until it happens to you.

Clarke stumbles into the bathroom with her state of consciousness fading and slams the door shut. She tries to backtrack, think of who passed by during their conversation but can barely concentrate, tipping forward on the sink and struggling to keep her eyes open.

Desperate, Clarke turns on the faucet water and shamelessly drinks from the sink. Gulping. She splashes some water on her face, but it barely helps.

Panic sets in, she has to do something before she passes out. Clarke fumbles for her phone, meaning to call Lexa or text her but her vision is blurred, and motor functions delayed, the phone slips through her fingers and it lands with two bounces on the floor.

“Shit. Fuck.”

Clarke falls on her hands and knees to pick up her phone, can hardly register the feeling of it in her hands.

She needs to find Lexa. Has to find Lexa.

Clarke manages to scramble back up onto her feet with the help of the sink. She reaches for the door and just as she turns the knob, falls out of the bathroom. She’s too faded to even think about what’s been on the carpet as her face hits it.

Someone picks her up.

It’s Jeff. “Woah, hey Clarke, you alright?”

“Lexa… find Lexa,” Clarke mumbles.

“Who?”

“Lexa.”

That’s when Clarke hears her- Lexa’s voice bellows down the hallway.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

Lexa rudely nudges past the bystanders and shoves Jeff in his chest, hard. He tumbles back at the Lexa’s strength despite his own athletic build.

Jeff puts up his hands in innocence, “Woah, sorry. Hey, just trying to help.”

Clarke feels hands on her, familiar hands.

“Lex…?” She mumbles.

Lexa’s voice is soft, full of care and concern. “Yeah, it’s me. C’mon Clarke, I need you to stand,” Lexa says, swinging Clarke’s arm over her shoulder and holding the blonde up by the waist. Lexa tries to look at Clarke, make eye contact. But Clarke’s pupils are too dilated to focus and she emits a hazy expression.

“Clarke, Clarke look at me. How much did you drink?”

“Barely…” Clarke murmurs.

“What? Barely, did… someone put something in your drink?”

Clarke nods a wobbly nod and Lexa’s eyes flash with anger, eyeing Jeff, “What the fuck did you do to her?!”

“Woah, like seriously, nothing. Chill out! She was fine a few minutes ago and next thing I know, she’s on the floor. I was just trying help,” he says with sincerity, “Um, take it you’re Lexa? I was gonna try and find you, Clarke was asking for you, I swear.” He really is a nice guy.

Lexa eyes flit up and down, determining the genuineness of Jeff’s response and replies with, “Well, thanks, but I go it from here.”

They make for the exit and pass by Costia, who spots Lexa helping the blonde.

“Oh hey Lexa, your friend have too much to drink?”

“My roommate, I think she was roofied.”

“Oh, oh fuck,” Costia replies with concern.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take her home. You mind telling Kim? Spread the word and let people know to just be cognizant, be careful?”

“Yeah, sure, sure.”

“Okay, thanks. Be safe yourself and um, maybe I’ll see you around campus?”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” Lexa says and easily turns her attention back to Clarke, who was struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

Once outside, Lexa hopes the cold, fresh air would help, but it doesn’t.

“Clarke, Clarke c’mon, I just need you to keep walking.”

Clarke groans in response, tripping and stumbling over her own feet, though Lexa’s glad she’s still at least conscious.

Lexa huffs, “This isn’t working.” And in a single swoop, leans over to grip Clarke’s thigh and throws Clarke over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Considering she had been running stairs with Clarke on piggy back, the weight of Clarke across campus is nothing.

Lexa is pissed. There’s no way of finding who did it, no way of punishing them and it makes her seethe with anger.

“Lex…” Clarke groans and it brings Lexa out of her stewing silence.

“What?”

“Mmm- side- sideways?”

“Yes, you’re sideways because I’m carrying you sideways.”

Lexa smiles with slight amusement, it’s really not funny at all, but the drug has rendered Clarke a little loopy.

“I’m… mmm,” Clarke begins to mutter, “Mm- sorry I spit on you...”

And apparently, serves as a truth serum.

“It’s fine Clarke, that was a long time ago. Remember, we don’t talk about those days?”

“I- I hate-ed you.”

“I know, I hated you too.”

“So wrong. I- I was… so wrong. Mmm- sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, ‘kay?”

“So wrong. Your- your- your heart, it’ssssss… sssso nice.”

“Thank you, Clarke, I think you have a nice heart too.”

“Mmm- no, it’s like- like- you’re a ffffffucking Stark.”

Lexa chuckles, and must remind herself to not laugh. But Clarke continues to babble in nonsense.

“Fucking Lexa Stark… so charming, like her brother, John Snoowwwwww. Dark and handsome…”

“Woods is fine for me, thanks Clarke.”

“No… no Woods… Stark. Mhmm. Loyal, like a dog. Puppy dooogggg… so cute,” Clarke sighs.

Lexa continues to walk in silence, they are almost back to their dorm, though Clarke is still spewing gibberish.

“Puppy dawgsss. Mm, so cute. Love puppies, Lex.”

“That’s nice Clarke, everybody loves puppies.”

“Mn- no, love, Lex.”

“Yeah sure, I love puppies too.”

“No… Love ya… Lex.”

Lexa pauses just before the building, outer lights illuminating the entrance and she peers at Clarke over her shoulder. Clarke’s eyes are closed, she’s breathing heavily, and Lexa wonders if Clarke even knows what she’s saying, probably not.

“Yep, love ya too buddy,” Lexa replies awkwardly.

That’s the only way Clarke can mean it. Right? In the best friend, strictly platonic, kind of way.

Before Lexa can get a response, Clarke’s officially asleep, lightly snoring on her shoulder.

Lexa makes it up to their room, inelegantly balancing Clarke on her back to open the door and gently places Clarke down on her bed, cradling her head. She pulls off Clarke’s boots and rolls her out of her jacket before tucking the blonde in.

Changing out of her jeans and into comfortable sweats, Lexa brushes her teeth and is ready for bed. She pulls her hair up in a pony tail, unused to the way it felt below her shoulders and is about to get into her bed when she hears Clarke call her name.

“Lex…” Clarke mummers.

Lexa walks to Clarke and pushes a few strands of her hair aside, “Yeah Clarke?”

“Lex?”

“Yeah? I’m right here, what do you need?”

“Stay…” Clarke trails.

“Yep, I’m right here. I’m staying right here.”

“No…” Clarke sighs with eyes still closed, but pushes her blanket off in an ungrateful swing, “Stay.”

“You want me to lay with you?”

“Mm-hm, lay.”

“Okay,” Lexa replies softly and scoots into the bed with Clarke.

It’s warm under the covers and she feels Clarke nestle into her, face in the crook of her neck. Lexa hugs her close for reassurance and Clarke hums in response, warm breath just under her jawline and this time, there’s no mistake about it.

“I love you,” Clarke whispers.

Clarke can’t know what she’s saying. Doesn’t know what she’s saying. Won’t remember any of it. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be safe out there people, and please, if this were a real life situation- call the police and take the person to see a medical professional. This is a fictional story and I am not trying to convey that drugs are okay. 
> 
> On a side noted, something about Lexa cussing is totally hot. I mean, Clarke too, but Lexa... is that just me?


	10. Giving Thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love you all, I've added another chapter to extend this experience. 
> 
> Also, towards the end of this chapter, be prepared for quick, single scene breaks between Lexa/Anya and Clarke/Raven. I've never written such clipped scene breaks before, and just hope it works. Thanks for reading!

Lexa wakes with a deep inhale and it’s filled with the familiar scent of Clarke’s hair. She opens her eyes to a single beam of sunlight blinding her left eye. She and Clarke are in the same position they fell asleep; Clarke nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing deeply with intermittent light snores. Lexa finds it just a little bit adorable, resists the urge to kiss Clarke on the forehead- because that’s just one step too far for the complexity of their interwoven friendship.

Also, Lexa is reminded of Clarke’s words last night. She decides the best course of action is “business as usual.” Clarke wasn’t in her right mind last night and Lexa can’t credit the statement. Lexa’s decision isn’t influenced by her own conflicting feelings. (That’s a lie.)

Slowly shifting, Lexa shimmies her right arm out from underneath Clarke’s head and rolls off the bed. Clarke groans with a few mumbles but stays asleep. Lexa’s not sure how long Clarke will stay asleep and sweeps a few stray hairs from Clarke’s face in quiet study.

Curious for time, Lexa checks her phone to discover twenty minutes remain for breakfast. She’s definitely hungry, and breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. Also, Clarke will undoubtedly want to eat as soon as she wakes. Between the two of them and vigorous training schedule, Lexa is sure the school loses money each time they dine. Both able to pack down several plates of food with their young, athletic bodies burning through calories like fire engulfing gasoline.

Considering Clarke won’t be rising anytime soon, Lexa changes quickly and proceeds to the dining hall. She grabs two to-go boxes and piles pancakes atop eggs, bacon and sausage as high as possible along with a four-cup holder heavy with two coffees and two orange juices.

Clarke is still sleeping when Lexa returns, gone and back in less than fifteen minutes. She sits at Clarke’s desk, maintaining a peripheral on Clarke and simultaneously digs into breakfast while working on her English paper.  

An hour into typing, she hears Clarke stir and groan, almost painfully. Lexa immediately gets up to nurse Clarke’s rousing, leaning over the blonde and gently rubbing Clarke’s back.

“Hey…” Lexa says with a soft and soothing voice, consciously blocking the ray of sunshine to shield Clarke’s waking eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmnnn- like shit,” Clarke moans, she squints at Lexa. “How’d I get home?”

“You don’t remember?”

Clarke shakes her head.

 _Maybe that’s for the best._ Lexa thinks to herself.

“How much did I drink? I must have been wasted.”

“Actually… not much at all. What’s the last thing you remember.”

Lexa can see the struggle behind Clarke’s eyes, usually vivid, but now fogged with confusion.

Clarke groans again as she sits up, “Um… eating pizza? Some guy named Jeff- plays baseball. Um… I can’t.”

Lexa just nods, continually rubbing Clarke’s back, “Yeah… I think you were roofied.”

“What? Seriously?” Clarke deepens the furrow in her brow.

“Yeah, I um, carried you back,” Lexa says timidly, cautious to stir Clarke’s memory of their conversation.

Of three specific words.

“Oh fuck...” Clarke mumbles, slowly scooting off the bed and realizes she’s still in last night clothes. “Fucking deutsche bag. Karma’s gonna be a bitch to that person,” and looks up to meet Lexa’s eyes. “Thank you. For apparently taking care of me and getting me home.”

Clarke shows zero signs of recollection, which makes it easier for Lexa; the situation will be without awkward repercussion.

Lexa nods, “Of course.” And reaches for Clarke’s bedside bottle of water. “Here.”

As Clarke drinks, Lexa shuffles through her drawer from some painkillers along with one of her multivitamins. She offers them to Clarke, easily taking the pills without resistance.

“Are you hungry?” Lexa asks, leaning forward to make eye contact with blue.

Clarke shoots her best friend a “duh” look, “Of course I’m hungry. When am I not.”

“Well, I got you some breakfast too.”

Clarke smiles at Lexa’s gesture and unexpectedly cups Lexa’s face. “Aw, thank you. What would I do without you?”

The cupping of her face makes Lexa’s eyes flicker off-kilter, tips of her ear tinge pink and she can only hope Clarke’s too groggy to notice. Lexa’s further thrown when Clarke begins to lean forward, pulling Lexa’s face towards her.

_What is she doing?!_

For a split second, Lexa’s pupils dilate at the prospect. Except, Clarke turns her face and proceeds to plant a big kiss on Lexa’s cheek with a heavy, “Mm-wha.” Followed by a, “Best friend _ever._ ”

Friend. Right. They’re friends.

Lexa smiles a big and daft grin as Clarke drops her hands from her face.

“Think I’m going to shower first before I eat though,” Clarke mumbles, scooting off the bed.

Lexa retrieves her laptop and returns to her desk while Clarke steps into the bathroom with door closed. For some reason, Lexa is hyper-attuned to the sounds in the bathroom. Though she’s scanning her paper, she’s not actively paying it any attention, mentally visualizing what Clarke is doing with each identifiable sound; the light flop of Clarke’s clothes as she undresses, squeak of the faucet, stream of water hitting tile, curtain drawing, shampoo bottle squirting – Clarke is almost out, larger plops of water as Clarke washes her hair.

Last night definitely triggered something and Lexa is burdened with the knowledge, stewing on the intent of Clarke’s three words.

Clarke exits the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, as usual. Lexa has seen Clarke exit the shower _every day._ Hell, Lexa has seen Clarke in naked blurs in the locker room every morning after soccer practice.

Except today, Lexa finds herself swallowing a gulp at the sight. Her body reacting to a skipped palpation. She’s gawking. Clarke’s skin, flush red from the hot water, insanely sexy legs with large, muscular thighs. Lexa’s eyes trail up; Clarke has toned shoulders, strong and athletic. Clarke turns, leans down to open her drawer, and oh my god, _good earth cleavage_. How has Lexa _never_ noticed before?! She’s ogling Clarke in the most objectifying way possible. It’s wrong. Makes her feel creepy and perverted.

“What are you working on?”

“Huh?!”

“Are you alright Lexa?” Clarke tries to make eye contact. “You um, look a little dazed?”

“What?” Lexa shakes out of her reverie, “I was um… nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Right…” Clarke’s not convinced, smirking. “So, what’s her name?”

“What?! Whose name?”

“The girl you’re clearly daydreaming about, that goofy blank stare on your face.”

“Wait- _what_?”

“Lexa, stop messing around. From last night, the girl you talked to, what’s her name?”

“Oh... Ohhhhh,” Lexa’s eyes widen in realization. “Her name is Costia.”

“Costia huh?” Clarke winks.

The wink is distracting, but not as distracting when Clarke turns to drop her towel halfway down. Though Clarke is partly turned away, Lexa can see some side boob. _So fucking wrong._

Thankfully, before Lexa falls off her chair, Clarke quickly throws on a loose t-shirt. Though the shirt might exacerbate Lexa’s situation, because Clarke is braless, and Lexa can discern the full size of Clarke’s breast under the thin material in addition to the outline of her nipples. Lexa darts her eyes.

“Wow Lexa, you can’t even look at me to talk about it?” Clarke says, pulling her underwear up underneath the towel.

“It’s… um, it’s- ” Lexa falters when Clarke ditches her towel and walks across the room in her underwear to retrieve a pair of sweatpants.

“She must be something special to have your panties all up in a bunch.”

Lexa eyes the round of Clarke’s full ass, perfectly displayed in her underwear.

_You have no idea._

Clarke pulls up a pair of grey jogger sweats with the Stanford “S” logo on her left thigh, and the word “soccer” running down the right leg. Lexa has a matching pair. Hell, they might even _be_ Lexa’s. They wear the same size, considering Lexa likes her clothes a little looser and Clarke, fitted.

“So,” Clarke grabs her tub of food, flops herself on Lexa’s bed and shamelessly rolls a pancake, dunks it in syrup like a chicken nugget and shoves half in her mouth. “Are you going to go out with her?” Clarke asks, muffled.

“I um… I haven’t decided,” Lexa mumbles, eyes following everything Clarke is doing with added acuity. Clarke’s cheeks are incredibly cute, stuffed like a squirrel or rabbit. Lexa likes squirrels and rabbits. All animals actually.

“What do you mean you haven’t decided? Look at you, you’re barely functional and you haven’t decided? This is the first time I’ve seen you like this. So, star-struck.”

“Oh, am I?” Lexa dares to look up and meet Clarke’s eyes.

“Lexa, you’re speechless right now.”

Clarke has syrup on the corner of her mouth. Lexa maybe wants to lick it off.

“Uh-huh,” Lexa replies with mouth slightly agape.

Clarke’s eyes are warm and affectionate. “Well, did you at least get her number?” Clarke asks, now onto her second pancake, placing the eggs and bacon in the middle and folding it like a taco.

Lexa shakes her head.

Disappointed, Clarke drops her shoulders, “Lexa… you didn’t even get her number?”

“I was um- too distracted.”

“Do you need a wing woman Lexa? ‘Cause you’re seriously pathetic right now,” Clarke takes another generous bite of her pancake taco and scrambled eggs fall down the front of her shirt. Clarke retrieves them and pops them into her mouth like popcorn, eating in the most unappealing way possible, but Lexa can’t look away. Finds it adorable. Clarke’s mouth glossy with butter and syrup.

The buzzing of Lexa’s phone draws her attention, a “+81” proceeds the digits. It’s international.

“Who’s that?” Clarke questions the unfamiliar numbers.

“Hm- must be my dad, sometimes he calls from random international numbers.”

“He’s in the Navy, right?”

Lexa nods just before answering and steps out into the hallway.

“Hey dad.”

They cover all the basics; Lexa’s progress in school, her healed injury, soccer status, if she needs any money transferred and how she likes her first semester. Additionally, Lexa’s father will be home in time for Thanksgiving, so they make plans accordingly.

Their conversation lasts roughly an hour before he hangs up.

“Yep, love you too dad. See you in a few weeks. Bye,” Lexa hangs up.

When she renters her room, she finds Clarke asleep in her bed. Food demolished and hugging one of Lexa’s spare pillows. Lexa chews her inner cheek at the sight and reaches for the blanket at the foot of her bed to cover Clarke. Resists yet another urge to kiss Clarke’s forehead.

With Clarke asleep, Lexa’s able to concentrate busies herself with homework and avoids wandering thoughts.

/

It’s pure torture. 100% agony the way Lexa needs to constantly avert her eyes in the locker room. While they change, shower, change again.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it._

Lexa attempts to reign herself in though it’s been an insurmountable task since Lexa returned to the game, playing side by side with Clarke. They play exceptionally well together, Clarke doubling her points, splits between assists and goals, with Lexa on the field.

Lexa’s acting to assume “business as usual” deserves an Oscar. Or at least it feels that way because Clarke doesn’t seem to have noticed the added hitches of breath when they touch, the knot in Lexa’s throat when they snuggle, and the lingering eye contact Lexa can’t shake. It’s extremely uncomfortable and Lexa’s never been in such a predicament.

She’s decided it’s a _stupid_ crush on her roommate/best friend and nothing else. A sudden spurt of misfires that will disappear in two to three weeks. Lexa’s sure of it, because she’s crushed on girls before, a lot of girls before, and this is no different.

Thus, Lexa drives forward with school and soccer. Mostly soccer, because Stanford has made it to the playoffs, seeded number two behind Oregon and the competition gives Lexa reason to further occupy herself with additional hours at the gym and soccer field.

“I’m headed to the gym,” Lexa says after class.

“Again?” Clarke cocks her head. “Been spending a lot of time at the gym.”

“Yeah… I know, I just, I want to be ready for the playoffs.”

“Well, don’t overwork yourself. Want some company?”

“No!”

Last time, Clarke helped to spot Lexa during her squats; with Clarke’s arms around her, the feeling made Lexa’s knees buckle and she almost dropped the entire load.

“Ooohhh-kay,” Clarke’s taken aback with Lexa’s unusual dramatic response, squints an eye at her best friend.

“I mean,” Lexa stammers, “of course you can come, I just. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Lexa, I don’t mind. What’s gotten into you lately?”

“It’s um, my competitive spirit,” Lexa lies, “I get really nervous near championship games, and I um, I don’t want to fuck up.”

“You’re not going to fuck up,” Clarke answers confidently, “you’re the most natural looking athlete out there.”

It’s a solid, flattering compliment.

“Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa begins to peel away towards the gym, “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

/

Lexa spends over two hours at the gym; working off a heap of sexual tension. She lifts, runs, and cycles with headphones blaring until she’s spent. To kill some extra time, Lexa opts to shower at the gym because she knows the moment she steps into her room, the two-plus hours of work only nicks the iceberg. Speaking of icebergs, Lexa can use one for her crotch.

Clarke’s been extra “snuggly”. And well, Lexa’s not going to blatantly deny Clarke snuggles, but they’ve been rendering her wet. Really fucking wet; she’s been washing her underwear on hot with extra detergent. And she’s running out of detergent- add that to the list along with Clarke’s shampoo and conditioner.

“Hey,” Clarke greets as Lexa enter the room.

“Hey.”

“Did you shower at the gym too?”

“I did, actually, it was just… easier.”

“Hey, want to finish Altered Carbon tonight?” Clarke offers.

Lexa’s torn- the moment that laptop screen lights up, Clarke’s going to be flush against her.

“Um,” Lexa bites her lower lips, “I should… probably just study.”

“Study for what? We have nothing. It’s Thanksgiving week and we only have class today and tomorrow. Break starts Wednesday.”

Dammit, why is Clarke in all her classes?

“Oh, yeah, you’re… right.”

“C’mon,” Clarke unfolds her laptop and sets it at the foot of her bed.

Lexa’s tired from the gym and apparently physical strength transfers to inner strength and Lexa has none left.

“Okay,” she succumbs.

Settling down on Clarke’s bed, Lexa welcomes Clarke into her arms- as usual. Lexa’s already decided her current pair of underwear is going straight in the trash.

As Clarke nestles in under Lexa’s chin and in the crook of her right arm, Lexa is rudely smacked in the face with a ginormous waft of Clarke’s hair.

“Did you um… use a different shampoo?” Lexa can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, stopped by the store when you were gone. I was out and this one was on sale. Like it?”

It’s so fucking good, it’s god damn offensive.

 _Seriously, what the hell is that?_ Coconut-tropical-eat-me-out-now?! Because Lexa’s mouth is watering. She wants to start feverishly making out with Clarke, bury her hands in Clarke’s pretty hair, and then go down on her like there’s no tomorrow.

“Uh, it’s- fine,” Lexa underplays.

“Oh, and you were low on detergent, so I got you some.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” Lexa replies while her heart maybe melts a little bit.

Clarke props herself up on her elbow for a moment, long enough to make eye contact.

“I wanted to,” Clarke replies with an added smile.

Lexa flicks her eyes down at Clarke’s lips, just a split second. They’re close, contact inches away with just a simple lean. One light tug of Clarke towards her. One inward shift.

 _But_ , Lexa second guesses herself like never before. Finds her relationship with Clarke too valuable to throw away on a crush, unwilling to smear what they have to satisfy a bodily impulse.

What if Clarke doesn’t return the gesture and it’s all awkward? And _oh my god_ , what if it affects their chemistry on the field. They’ve been leading the team, coach heavily dependent on them and school reliant on their star freshmen to bring home the national championship. They’ve already been highlighted by the school paper twice.

Lexa won’t allow herself to be that dumb. Grinds her teeth, looks forward at the screen, and sinks back. Thankfully, Clarke shifts with her; also turns her attention towards the show and rests her head on Lexa’s chest.

Crisis averted.

They’re at least two episodes in, though Lexa’s not paying the screen any regard, which is a bitch because the scenes look complicated from a futuristic rainy city to a thick, pine forest. She has no idea what’s going on because Lexa can’t focus past Clarke body against her.

What’s worse – well, it’s not that bad, but in Lexa’s somehow hyper-activated sexual state, it is. Clarke keeps playing with the string on her hoodie. Twirling around her fingers, tugging and releasing, and then proceeds to _chew_ on it.

Clarke is chewing on her hoodie string. What the fuck?!

And Lexa’s eyes are fixated on the blonde’s mouth, nibbling at the plastic bit beginning to fray.

It’s extremely sexual and Lexa can feel wetness dampening her underwear. She wants to cross a right leg over the other but can’t with Clarke’s weight along the right side of her body. Seeking some sort of positional relief, Lexa begins to stir.

“Are you okay?” Clarke notices.

“Yeah, I just um-” _am insanely turned on, “_ my leg was falling asleep,” Lexa fabricates, shuffling her right leg.

“Do you want me off?” Clarke asks.

“Oh- no, you’re fine.”

“Wanna just switch sides? I don’t mind,” Clarke says, “actually, can we? My left arm is falling asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, Clarke.”

 _No, no, Clarke_. Because Clarke sits up and _straddles_ Lexa on her way over and Lexa has to stifle a moan. Uses every ounce of willpower to avoid grabbing Clarke at the hips and grinding up. Lexa hopes Clarke moves on soon, just a quick roll to the other side.

_C’mon Clarke._

But no, Clarke lingers, stays straddled and leans up with her full weight on Lexa’s hips.

“Sorry,” Clarke says and proceeds to flip her hair around very, very Baywatch-like manner, “I just need to put up my hair.”

_Right now?! On me?! Like this?!_

The answer is yes, and Clarke begins to bunch her hair in a loose ponytail and tie it from a hairband around her wrist.

It’s taking forever, and Lexa can’t stand it anymore; the sight of Clarke from below, the pressure of Clarke’s crotch from above. All of it.

Abruptly, Lexa sits up, plants her hands on Clarke’s hips and quickly tosses Clarke off in a single heap.

“What the hell Lexa?!” Clarke is startled, dropping her hands from her hair to catch herself.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa dashes off the bed, “You were killing m- my bladder. I really need to pee.”

_At least that makes sense._

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Clarke shrugs while restarting her hair, fingers combing through blonde strands that Lexa wishes were her own.

“Uh- I dunno,” Lexa takes a few brisk steps towards the bathroom, “it just kinda hit me.” And solidly shuts the door.

Finding refuge in the bathroom, Lexa leans back on the sink, drops her head back and takes a few calming breaths.

_Just calm down, it’s just Clarke._

Lexa drums her fingers on the tiled ledge behind her, reigning herself in. Feeling her chest settle, Lexa pees for the sake of being in the bathroom (wipes thoroughly), flushing and washing her hands.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Clarke is on the opposite side of the bed and casually browsing her phone.

“Good?” Clarke drops her phone.

Lexa nods and clambers into the vacant bed space. And like a magnet to metal, Clarke is already hugging her side. Automatically, Lexa puts her left arm around Clarke, tugs her close and rests her chin on the top of Clarke’s head.

Thinking to herself, Lexa reasons the next several days; just a few days until Thanksgiving break, which will provide Lexa some distance and ultimately, relief from Clarke. The Clarke-free few days will hopefully help dissolve her “crushing” hormones and all will return to normal.

/

Lexa packs the remainder of her duffle, though she doesn’t need much and has clothes she’d left at home.

“See you on Monday, then?” Clarke asks.

It’s Wednesday morning and Lexa’s dad is minutes from campus. “Actually, I’ll be back Sunday afternoon-ish.”

“Oh, okay cool, my bus gets in Sunday night,” Clarke replies, her bus for Arcadia departs in an hour. “So, Sunday?”

Counting the remainder of today, that gives Lexa almost five entire days to get the fuck over her roommate/bff.

“Yeah, Sunday it is,” Lexa replies with a text buzzing through, her dad is here.

Naturally, Clarke stands for a quick hug goodbye. Lexa thought it’d be awkward, but it’s not. It’s okay.

“Bye,” says Clarke.

“Bye.”

Lexa shuffles down the stairs with her dad’s car parked directly out front; a silver mid-sized SUV she used to dirty with all her soccer gear in the back, muddy uniform and shoes. Her dad is waiting outside the vehicle, leaning against the opened trunk gate.

“Hey dad,” she smiles.

“Hey Lexa,” he mirrors her smile and leans in for a hug.

Lexa’s used to weeks without seeing her father, usually gone on deployments, so the moment feels almost ordinary.

“How was Okinawa?” Lexa says, tossing her duffle bag in the back.

“Lexa!”  

She hears behind her, and Lexa turns to Clarke calling her name. Clarke is exiting the building in light jog towards the car.

“Clarke?”

In Clarke’s hand is Lexa’s phone charger, “Here, you forgot this.”

“Oh, thanks,” Lexa takes the charger and shoves it in the side of her duffle.

Lexa didn’t anticipate introducing Clarke to her father; in this manner and so soon, but the opportunity has clearly forced itself on her.

“Um- Clarke, this is my dad, Thomas. Dad, this is Clarke.”

“Mr. Woods.”

They shake hands, “Hi Clarke, please, call me Tom. Also, I wanted to thank you, Lexa mentioned you were quite the help when she broke her leg.”

“Oh, it was- yeah. Not a problem at all. My mom’s a doctor and I’ve broken mine before,” Clarke lightly stutters. Lexa questions Clarke’s apparent nervousness, she’s never Clarke like this.

“Well, we should get going, you ready Lexa?” he asks.

Lexa nods, “Yep,” and turns back to Clarke, though they’ve already hugged goodbye, embrace again. This time, much more awkwardly. The hug is short, clipped with a flat handed pat on the back.

“See you, Sunday Clarke.”

“Bye.”

Entering the vehicle, Lexa props her feet up to prepare herself for the two-hour drive home.

“Hey, I just got the car detailed Lexa,” her dad scolds.

Lexa only gives her dad a rebellious glance and doesn’t move either of her feet.

“They’re new shoes dad.”

He huffs in easy surrender and reaches across to ruffle the top of Lexa’s head. “Missed ya too kiddo. You okay with In N’Out for lunch? Japan was nice, but I’ve been dying for a cheeseburger.”

“Only if I can get animal style fries and burger.”

“You got it.”

An hour into the car ride home, Lexa contemplates texting Clarke. Her brooding doesn’t last long when her phone pings with a text from Clarke, photo attached.

Opening the photo, Clarke has sent an image of a large, sleeping, human-being next to her on the bus.

_Clarke: srsly, this is what I get to sit next to for the next 7 hours?_

_Lexa: lol_

And daringly adds.

_Lexa: miss me that much already huh?_

Isn’t Lexa supposed to be taking this time to “get over” Clarke?

Yes.

But instead, she’s on the cusp of flirting via text. _Bad Lexa, bad._

Ellipsis appear and disappear twice before Clarke generates a reply.

_Clarke: just your body_

Lexa drops her jaw and scoffs. Her reaction causes her dad turn his head and Lexa tilts her phone just a little to the right.

_Lexa: is that all i am to you, a warm body at night?_

_Clarke: mostly_

_Clarke: your face is sorta okay to look at_

_Clarke: i guess_

Why is Clarke like this?! 

With their identical school schedule, they scarcely text. This break will be the longest stretch of time apart since school began. And evidently, Clarke is this type of texter. Whatever _this_ is.

Lexa peers at her father on her left, balancing her reaction in hopes he doesn’t notice. Though, she’s not sure she can keep it together in his presence. She can either flirt back or nip it in the bud. Fuck it.

_Lexa: i can do more with my face_

Clarke responds almost immediately.

_Clarke: said it before and will say it again_

_Clarke: i’ll believe it when i see it_

Without seeing Clarke’s physical gestures, reactions, or tone in her voice, the texts are very ambiguous. It’s either light flirting or heavy bantering. Clarke’s since made several additional jeers at Lexa’s failure to obtain Costia’s number. Even after running into Costia at the student coffee shop, twice.

Costia aside, Lexa cannot tell which direction Clarke’s texts are leaning. Though, Lexa’s not one to beat around the bush (that’s a terrible pun and I know it). So, she directly asks.

_Lexa: what exactly do you want to see?_

Several minutes pass by and Clarke has gone quiet. Lexa continues to check for ellipsis, but nothing. No sign Clarke is generating a response.

By the time Lexa pockets her cellphone, they’ve exited the highway and her dad has pulled up to the famed California burger joint. Lunchtime.

Lexa easily devours the double cheeseburger and fries, both “animal styled” from the restaurant’s secret menu and tops the meal off with a large chocolate shake. All while small talking with her dad; her soccer stats, grades in school, her teachers, etc. Though the most annoying aspect isn’t her repeated conversation with her father, but the fact that Clarke _still_ hasn’t texted back.

Annoyed and admittedly, eager to be texting, Lexa opens the text conversation below Clarke’s.

_Lexa: r u home yet?_

_Lexa: ill be home in about an hour_

_Anya: yeah_

_Anya: my flight got in this morning_

/

“Anya!” Lexa reaches to embrace Anya.

“Hey Lex,” Anya replies. “Geez, have you bulked up? You seem… more fit,” Anya comments, giving Lexa couple of looks over.

“Ugh, just a little,” she says as they head upstairs to Lexa’s room. “Just trying to get ready for playoffs,” Lexa responds, concealing the fact that the gym has been an excuse to avoid her roommate.

“Right… I’m so fucking upset,” Anya replies. Anya’s school, UCLA lost the entry game into the final slot. “Whatever, I was looking forward to a break anyway.”

Just like old times, Lexa kicks back at the head of her old bed and Anya sits crossed legged at the foot.

“So, how’s life with Arcadia? I’m surprised you two haven’t strangled each other.”

“Oh,” Lexa brushes off. “It’s fine- she’s actually… pretty cool.” _I’m crushing on her so hard._

And at that moment, as if the devil himself heard Lexa, Lexa’s phone buzzes and illuminates with a text. It’s resting face up on the bed and draws both their attention. Clarke has now, several hours later into the evening, answered Lexa’s previous text and a wave of panic tackles Lexa.

_Clarke: what do you want to show me?_

“Is that her?” Anya cocks an eyebrow.

“No!”

God fucking dammit, Lexa is just one reach shy, laying back against her pillows and Anya has snatched her phone. Anya’s known her passcode for years and opens Lexa’s text strings with Clarke.

“Dammit An’!”

 Anya’s scan of their conversation takes less than two seconds.

“Lexa,” Anya drops her tone with a mocking grin. “Are you fucking her?” And mocks, “And you didn’t _tell_ me?!”

/

Meanwhile, in Arcadia. Clarke has rendezvoused with Raven and finds herself in an identical situation.

“So, you guy’s fucking now?!” Raven accuses.

“What?! No, no. We’re just… good friends. Lexa’s… alright,” Clarke replies.

/

“So you’re not fucking, but you can’t stop text flirting with a sheepish grin on your face?” says Anya.

“What? I don’t have a sheepish grin on my face. She just, we’re just really good friends Anya. She’s just messing with me.”

/

“Okay, let me spell it out for you Clarke,” Raven gestures between them. “You and I are best friends but we do not hold hands nor do we snuggle,” Raven continues to indict.

“It’s just, it’s not like that. I don’t know how to define it. We’re just close, that’s all,” Clarke defends.

/

“You snuggle a girl but don’t do anything else? Who are you and what have you done with Lexa Woods?”

“Nothing! It’s just, I don’t know how to explain it. We’re just, close.”

/

“Have you kissed?” Raven asks out of curiosity.

“No- ”

/

“Oh wait, actually, yeah we have, but it was on accident,” Lexa replies.

“Lexa! How the _fuck_ do you kiss someone on accident?!”

/

“It was a mistake, I was drunk, she was wearing a snapback at a party and I couldn’t really see,” Clarke answers.

/

“And she had dyed her hair pink, and I didn’t recognize who she was. It was dark around the side of the house.”

/

“And?!” Raven pushes for details.

/

“What do you mean ‘And?’ We kissed, realized it was each other and you know, went our separate ways. Can we talk about something else? It was kind of a weird time, okay?” Lexa pleads.

Anya’s jaw is agape in disbelief, “Lexa Woods kissed a girl and _walked_ away?!”

/

“It wasn’t just anybody Rae, it was Lexa! I hated her remember?”

“Yeah, and now you’re in love with her.”

/

“We’re not in love An’. I’ve already said it, we’re just close. Okay?”

Anya rolls her eyes so hard, Lexa wants to smack her, “Whatever Lex. Just, answer me this. When was the last time you got laid?”

/

“Um…” Clarke thinks back to the last time she slept with someone, maybe Mark just before she left for college.

“Okay, the fact that you have to think about that, something is disastrously wrong. Where is Party Girl Griffin and what have you done with her?!”

/

“I… just don’t feel like bringing someone back to the dorm room. Clarke and I pretty much have the same schedule, and I don’t want to be rude.”

“Okay…Lex, who hasn’t slept with a single girl since you’ve been in college?!”

/

“You say that like it’s a bad thing Rae, I just haven’t met anybody interesting yet,” Clarke replies.

“OMG, I am talking to Clarke Griffin right? Who managed to date five people at the same time her senior year?”

/

“Okay, that number gets bigger every time. It was only three girls,” Lexa replies, “And it wasn’t like that. Kate and I were about to break up, Joanna asked me out that same day, but I had already promised Tonya a date.”

“You’re totally fucking in love with her!”

/

“I am not!” Clarke shouts in defense.

“I want to meet her,” Raven blurts.

/

“What?!” Lexa says.

“I need a better judge of this Griffin girl other than ninety minutes on a soccer field.”

/

Clarke scoffs.

“Invite her up to the cabin,” Raven suggests.

Clarke’s parents maintain a timeshare at Lake Tahoe and though they refer to it as a cabin, is in actuality, a sizable house with a wooden exterior, five bedrooms, three and a half baths, a large kitchen and hot tub. Every year, Clarke and her friends go up after Christmas and spend New Year’s on the mountain. Skiing, snowboarding, and partying.

“The cabin?”

“We’re still going right?”

“Of course, we go every year, why would this year be any different.”

“Then invite her,” says Raven.

Clarke’s speechless and before she knows it, Raven seizes Clarke’s phone on the counter.

“Fuck, Rae!”

Raven quickly enters Clarke’s passcode, she’s known it for years, and sends Lexa a text.

_Clarke: what about new years?_

Clarke attempt to pry the phone from Raven’s hands, but she’s too late as she hears the swooping send sound.

Lexa replies immediately.

_Lexa: what about new years_

Raven replies for Clarke, running as Clarke chases her in circles between the kitchen, living, and dining room.  

“Dammit Rae! What are you saying!?”

_Clarke: wanna go to tahoe?_

_Clarke: my friends and i go every year, parents have a cabin_

_Lexa: sure, can i bring a friend?_

_Clarke: ya, bring whoever, just lmk._

/

“Anya!” Lexa steals her phone back from Anya’s hand, “I’m more than capable of answering my own texts, thank you.”

“Yeah, but you take too long thinking sometimes.”

“What are we doing now?”

“Clarke just invited you up to the cabin with her friends… and I may have just invited myself. I have to see this with my own eyes.”

"Thanks... asshole," Lexa polishes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... the Clexa "crumbs" are driving me insane as well. But... we're getting close. 
> 
> Need some smut? Check out my other work, Devotion to Duty. ;)


	11. Golden Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa head to Oregon for the big championship game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive- some of you asked for Clarke's POV, which I didn't intend on providing, but what the hell. The first half is in Clarke's POV. 
> 
> Also, special thanks to @goaliegirl812 for helping to beta this chapter!

“So what time do you get back to campus tomorrow?” Lexa asks.

“My bus gets in around five something that evening,” Clarke replies.

They’re FaceTiming, Clarke’s head is sideways against her pillow, with her phone propped up. She imagines the same for Lexa. It’s Saturday night, the “last” night apart during this short Thanksgiving break and they have spent every night FaceTiming. Last night, they both fell asleep during, and Clarke woke up with earbuds still attached and phone battery dead.

Clarke doesn’t get Lexa. If FaceTiming every night—talking about nothing and everything—isn’t a sign that Lexa is interested, then Clarke doesn’t know what is.

At some point, Clarke developed feelings for Lexa and her conversation with Raven was a blatant lie. But, she was too embarrassed to admit to Raven—that Lexa had thwarted her efforts. Just the other night, Clarke even tried to straddle Lexa and can’t believe how Lexa tossed her off like a bull rider. Clearly, it was the wrong move and Clarke feared she had pushed Lexa too far.

Either Lexa is really that dense (doubtful), or she’s not interested and simply playing nice. With a bit of disappointment, Clarke surmises the latter.

She wants to kiss Lexa—has wanted to kiss Lexa a hundred times, revisit that accidental moment they shared months ago, but in the midst of their friendship, somewhere along the way, Clarke lost the courage. Because this is _Lexa._ Not a stranger at a party. Not the casual acquaintance, a friend of a friend. Lexa is her teammate. Lexa is her roommate. Lexa is her best friend. And Lexa is well, _Lexa._

Clarke has never second-guessed herself like this before. Unwilling to ruin the dynamic of their friendship, especially if Lexa doesn’t feel the same way. Clarke has mentally played the situation out in its entirety, how _awkward_ their next semester as roommates would be. A waste of what has transpired.

So, Clarke treads carefully. She restricts herself to light flirting, which can be construed as deep friendship—essentially what she can get away with without either pissing Lexa off or spooking her. 

“You want me to come pick you up from the bus terminal?” Lexa offers.

“Oh yeah, you’re bringing your car.”

“Yep,” Lexa smiles with that. “We can actually leave campus, go out. Hit the store or mall.”

_Or a date._

“Yeah, that’d definitely be cool.”

Clarke misses Lexa. Wants to tell Lexa how much she can’t wait to see her tomorrow night. To cuddle and bury her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck, fall asleep to Lexa’s scent, breathing, and heartbeat. These are not the thoughts of a friend, no matter how close. Clarke knows it—swallows the frog in her throat.

“Or you know, catch a movie,” Lexa says.

For a portion of a second, Clarke’s heart blips.

“That sounds… really nice,” Clarke lets a smile take over her lips.

“Well um, it’s getting late,” Lexa says.

It is _really_ late. Two-thirty in the morning late.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods a sideways nod. She resists the urge to kiss the screen of her iPhone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Clarke falls asleep with the happy thought of such—seeing Lexa tomorrow. She didn’t anticipate _missing_ Lexa so much after a measly five days and four nights. It’s a little bit ridiculous. It’s a lot ridiculous. Nevertheless, Clarke invites the ignorance.

/

The following evening, Lexa picks Clarke up in a sleek, black coupe. Although they have been texting throughout the day, pictures and Snaps, nothing compares to the flutter that starts in Clarke’s belly, rises and overwhelms her chest. Like she’s meeting some celebrity crush for the first time. And Lexa is her celebrity crush.

“Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey, Lexa.”

Clarke watches Lexa get out of the car, sunglasses atop her head, dressed in fitting light jeans and a black jacket. She looks _really_ good.

Lexa steps in for an obvious hug and all too eagerly, Clarke throws her arms over Lexa’s shoulders; Lexa feels familiar (from all their cuddles), but also, sparks something new. As if the break had taken away precious time they needed to make up for because Clarke feels Lexa squeeze her just as tight as she does Lexa. She holds on that lingering second.

And _god_ , Clarke doesn’t know if Lexa just showered or is wearing something new, either way, she smells _incredible._ Clarke might be okay with smashing her face into Lexa’s. Right now. Change her grasp from around the back of Lexa’s shoulders, snake up her neck, and cup the back of Lexa’s head. It’d be so easy.

But just as quickly as they came together in an embrace, they pull apart and Lexa’s already reaching for Clarke’s suitcase. It’s one of two.

“Oh, thanks, I couldn’t resist bringing another suitcase of clothes.”

“Don’t worry, with my car, I wanted to pack the rest of my room. But... didn’t want to encroach on your side.”

_You can encroach on anything you want of mine. Especially me._

“I don’t care, Lex.”

“Yeah, well…” Lexa trunks the suitcases and they get into the vehicle. “Still.”

Lexa keeps a clean car. Expected. Not so expected, it’s manual. Who drives a manual anymore? More importantly, who the fuck cares. Because it is one thing.

_Hot._

If Clarke isn’t already sitting down, would have doubled over the moment Lexa brings down her sunglasses and starts working the stick shift like nobody’s business. It’s magic, and Clarke can’t help but think of the wondrous multi-tasking ability Lexa is capable of. A foot a piece on the clutch and gas, a hand a piece on wheel and shifter.

“Um, Clarke?”

“Huh?”

Clarke is so distracted, she fails to notice the beeping.

“Seatbelt,” Lexa says, nodding at the flashing red symbol denoting the passenger side’s seatbelt warning.

“Oh, yeah, of course—safety first!”

 _Seriously?! Safety first?_ Clarke sounds like her mother and gags at the thought.

“Did you want to stop anywhere before we get back to the dorms?”

_In your pants. Is that an option?_

“Grab some dinner, maybe?” Lexa suggests.

“Dinner sounds nice.”

“Anything you want in particular?”

“You know me, Lex. I’m not picky.”

Lexa smiles a big smile, mischief peeking.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Passed by an all-you-can-eat sushi place on my way here.”

“Fuck, yes!” Clarke tosses her head back in exaggeration. “I do love me some sushi.”

“Yeah, I figured we can carbo-load. You know Coach is going to have us working our asses off.”

“Yeah, especially now that we’re in the quarterfinals.”

“Championship game in a week,” Lexa says in a very matter-of-factly tone as if they’re already passed both the quarter and semifinals.

This thought helps bring Clarke back to center. Their first priority is soccer—with the team, coach, and school counting on them. Playing alongside Lexa has been easy, natural, and most of all, fun. They find each other on the field effortlessly, and Clarke’s not sure if it’s because she’d spent so much time with Lexa during Lexa’s recovery or just a fact of science. They have chemistry and sometimes, you just click.

At dinner, they stuff their faces—living and training together has afforded this liberty.

“Are you going to finish that roll?” Lexa looks at Clarke’s last Philadelphia roll, salmon wrapped with cream cheese, avocado, and cream cheese.

“Yes. Go get your own.”

Lexa scoffs a lighthearted laugh, then stands to walk over to the sushi counter to order more. “Anything else for you, _dear_?”

The “dear” is emphasized in a fictitious tone. Clarke wishes it wasn’t.

“Ya,” Clarke says with a full cheek, “another one of those Rainbow rolls,” and gives an added wink.

Clarke wonders at what point she’s just going to just lose it and throw herself at Lexa in total reckless abandonment. She can feel her composure degrading exponentially, eyeing Lexa at the counter—looking better than any fucking sushi roll they have on the menu.

Clarke’s eyes follow Lexa as she returns with two plates of massive, decorated rolls.

“My friend Anya,” Lexa starts, “is deathly allergic to shellfish so we avoid all seafood places. This is a treat for me.”

“That sucks, she need to carry an EpiPen?”

“Yeah, actually, I had to use it on her once. Scared the shit out of me. Something about stabbing your best friend in the thigh with a gigantic needle.”

Clarke shrugs, “Medical necessities. You saved her life though.”

“I did—but I could never be a doctor, do that as a living. Which, I meant to ask you, did you decide on your classes for next semester yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m still debating on whether or not I want to stay pre-med.”

“You should go with what makes you happy.”

And just as Lexa says it, they lock eyes and all Clarke can think about is being _with_ Lexa.

“I want to…” Clarke mumbles.

“They why don’t you?”

A pause. Clarke’s not sure if they’re talking about her major anymore.

 “It’s… complicated.”

“No need to complicate things,” Lexa says, almost too casual. “It… doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“What if um—what if it doesn’t work out,” Clarke dares to say, clears her throat. “Then I would have wasted an entire semester.”

They’re definitely _not_ talking about her major anymore.

“You never know unless you try,” Lexa says.

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“We’re talking about your major.”

“Are we?”

There is an elephant named Clexa. And it’s suddenly too much, Clarke breaks eye contact first, looks down at her food and shoves another roll in her mouth.

“Hey.”

Clarke feels Lexa nudge her foot.

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” Lexa nods across the street, where there is a Cold Stone Creamery. The question is presented in a much lighter tone with a soft, inviting smile on Lexa’s face.

Clarke mirrors the smile. “Sure.”

/

Just as Lexa stated, they make it through the quarter and semifinals with and Stanford is slated to play against the Oregon Ducks in the championship game to be played at Oregon.

In the locker room, Lexa takes the extra minute to gather her thoughts—mentally preparing herself based on her previous encounter with Oregon.

“You gonna break a leg out there or what?” Clarke says, giving Lexa a playful swat on the shoulder.

“Shut up, Clarke,” Lexa says with little offense.

“Seriously though,” Clarke takes a seat next to her on the bench. “You got this.”

Lexa nods a single, steady nod. “I know.”

Clarke leans into Lexa, nudging shoulders, “You want me to take out the goalie for you first? ‘Cause I will.”

Lexa gives an amused exhale, “I think that’s hardly necessary because I don’t intend on colliding with her again.”

The sound of the locker door swinging open breaks their conversation.

“Hey, freshies!” It’s Kim. “Game time!” 

“On our way!” Clarke yells back. Clarke then turns to take Lexa’s hand in a platonic handhold, giving it a light squeeze. “C’mon Lex.”

They exit the locker room, making their way towards the field through the tunnel. The stands sound full and when they emerge, aren’t betrayed by the commotion. It’s the largest audience either of them have played in front, not to mention their game will be televised. The stands look like Christmas, with Stanford red equally mixed with Oregon green despite playing at Oregon’s home field.

“I think my dad said he was streaming this live,” Lexa says while shaking her limbs to loosen her joints and muscles.

“My mom is definitely recording this. Loves to splice clips from my childhood games and play them during her dinner parties.” Clarke grabs her left ankle, balancing on her right leg to stretch her quad.

“That sounds terribly embarrassing.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “It is.” And switches to stretch the opposite leg. “Hey,” Clarke nods her gaze at the Stanford band. It’s the first time they’ve witnessed their school’s band. “Is our mascot a…tree?”

“Uh—I have no idea, but whatever. At least they’re here cheering for us.”

Before they can dissect the band further, Coach Kane blows his whistle.

“Ladies! Come on in! Circle around!”

They make an arc around Coach Kane, who delivers a standard set of pre-game words. Lexa pays it little attention, partly distracted by the band, but mostly mulling over the thoughts swirling in her head—because. This. Is. It.

“Okay ladies, bring it in!” Coach Kane says, extending his hand for a cheer. “On three, let’s go! One, two, three!”

“Goooo Card!”

As the visiting team, Stanford calls and wins the coin toss and elects to take the kickoff. Accordingly, Clarke takes her place as left striker and Lexa jogs to mid-field. Lexa looks good out there; she always has, dominating the field as a whole and adeptly managing both the defense and offense. And Lexa does something Clarke can’t: control the pace of the game. Clarke has one mode: all out, but Lexa has latitude. Moves with the play and changes it to her will—to their advantage.

Lexa’s game has evolved to the collegiate level and Clarke can foresee the “C” on Lexa’s uniform in the near future. Not just because Lexa takes charge, but because she _commands_ it from presence alone.

Oregon kicks off, and the ninety-minute countdown begins.

The ball gravitates towards Lexa—somehow it always does—or Lexa’s understanding of the game is superior to which she can predict where the ball will be. Either way, Lexa knows what to do with the ball before she even gets it, kicking it back to the defense, to Kim, for control and set up.

The first thirty minutes are scoreless. Both sides with several quality scoring chances, but neither able to cash in until Oregon gains a break. Kim is caught too deep in the box and Oregon’s player number eight sprints by her, kicks high and wide for a goal in the top corner.

Oregon one. Stanford nil.

“Fuck!” Kim curses.

“It’s alright Kim,” Lexa gives Kim a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll get it back.”

Just as Oregon settles on their lead, Lexa picks up her pace—instead of kicking the ball back for an easy rhythm, Lexa dodges an Oregon player and drives forward. Lexa outpaces two others and Clarke quickly follows, flanking Lexa’s left.

“Lexa!” Clarke shouts, making her position known as two defenders close in on Lexa.

Timing the two defenders, Lexa does a spin move, dodging and driving wide.

Now, Clarke has a clear shot to the net with full confidence that Lexa is looking for a pass. And just like how they’ve practiced all season, it’s a textbook goal. Lexa lures the goalie wide, then kicks the ball across to Clarke and all Clarke does is touch the ball for a tapping goal to tie up the game.

The dotted reds in the stadium go wild and their school song blares from the band. Clarke and Lexa meet for a solid high five.

“Nice goal, Clarke.”

“Nice pass, plus you’re the one who did all the work.”

Lexa shrugs, “Told Kim we’d get it back.”

The game starts again and by half-time, both sides are still tied.

Lexa takes a seat on the bench and Clarke offers her some Gatorade. 

“What do you think, Lex?”

Lexa is out of breath, but far from fatigued and squirts some liquid from Clarke’s bottle before handing it back. “That number eight, that scored for them,” Lexa pants, “Luna, I think her name is. She’s fast. Though ever since my one break, she won’t leave my side.”

“Yeah, I see that. But, at the same time, you’re also managing her.”

Lexa nods, “I know, but it significantly limits my offense. Constantly babysitting her when they have the ball.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just drop down, dip a little lower—give the defense a better passing lane direct to you.”

Clarke nods, “Kay.”

The coach brings them in for another cheer for the Cardinal before starting the second half. On the kickoff, the ball makes it all the way back to their goalie who scoops up the ball and punts it down midfield.

Lexa is there to receive, and just as she does, number eight—Luna, is on her. Luna drops down, sliding across the grass as if she were going for home base, and kicks the ball out from Lexa’s possession as well as taking Lexa’s feet out from under her.

Lexa is airborne for several seconds before slamming into the ground horizontally with a heavy _oomph._ She is inches from eating dirt.

Apparently, this sets Clarke on fire and rushes over, mouthing a very defensive, “What the fuck?!” at Luna.

“Clarke,” Lexa stands, dusting off her uniform. “I’m fine.”

“Woah,” Luna replies with hands in the air as if Clarke is pointing a gun at her. “Just going for the ball.”

“Yeah, right! You tripped the shit out of her!”

The play has momentarily paused, and the referee motions for a direct freekick Luna’s slide tackle has afforded Lexa.

“As if I intentionally wanted to give one of your best players a free kick,” Luna gestures at her team, setting up a line of defense. “Sorry.”

“Clarke,” Lexa grabs Clarke by the elbow. “Relax.” And motions with a nod for Clarke to step away.

Lexa can see the reluctance in Clarke’s eyes as she dials down her blue hues and gets into position.

“Honestly,” Luna says to Lexa, “didn’t mean to trip you, and definitely didn’t mean to piss off your girlfriend.”

Lexa bats an eye at this Luna girl. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

“Your teammate then,” Luna corrects. “Pretty cute… feisty. She seeing anyone?”

_Seriously?! The audacity of this number eight._

Lexa’s stomach takes a possessive churn and she grinds her jaw. “No.”

“That’s cool,” is all Luna says before taking off beyond vocal range.

Lexa watches Luna—watch Clarke. It’s distracting. And evidently, desolating as Lexa kicks the ball high and wide for a complete miss of the net. Unable to capitalize on likely the best chance Stanford is going to get to take the lead.

“God—fucking dammit,” Lexa says under her own breath.

“Hey,” Lexa feels Clarke’s hand on the small of her back. “It’s alright, we got almost fifteen more minutes to make something happen.”

Lexa says nothing, almost ignoring Clarke as her eyes now follow Luna across the field.

Despite the small changes Coach Kane makes, the regulation period ends in a tie and the game is forced into overtime.

“Alright ladies,” Coach Kane grabs his dry-erase clipboard. “I want my midfielders to push up, especially you Lexa,” and makes a few marks on the clipboard. “Defense, here and here. Watch their number eight, she’s definitely our biggest threat. We have two ten-minute periods, sudden-victory.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke interjects. “I thought it was two ten-minute regular, then sudden-victory.”

Lexa shakes her head, “No, not in championship games—like Coach said. It’s sudden-death.”

Sudden-victory or sudden-death, meaning whichever team scores first, ends the game instantaneously like capturing the snitch in Quidditch, and takes the win.

“What if we’re still tied after that?” Clarke asks.

“Then it goes into a shoot out,” Coach answers. “But, we’ll worry about it if it actually comes to that. Alright, ladies?”

The team as a whole nod with the same solemn expression on their faces. Even Kim, normally jovial no matter the situation isn’t smiling, understanding the stakes. Because this _is_ the championship game. The time to leave it all out on the field.

“Okay, everyone hands in,” Coach extends a hand into the circle. “One, two, three!”

“Goooo Card!”

It’s another coin toss to start overtime. They lose the toss and the Cardinals kick off to the Ducks.

With the ball in Oregon’s defensive zone, they make a few casual passes, defense to defense, giving their forwards time to set up. Without fail, the ball migrates up into Luna’s possession and Lexa is on her, running alongside and bumping shoulders.

Lexa doesn’t want to take any unnecessary fouls, as much as she wants to just knock Luna over, trip her or otherwise for her interest in Clarke—though Lexa technically has no stake in the claim, but maintains her resolution.

Although she and Luna are equally matched in speed, Lexa manages to force Luna wide and the ball goes out of play at the goal line.

It’s not an ideal situation, Luna with the corner kick, but it’s better than giving her a direct shot on goal.

Maybe.

Because Lexa’s heart sinks for a split second when Luna’s kick is redirected at the net. But thankfully, is saved by their goalie who snatches the ball out of the air.

They play is now back in Cardinal possession as their goalie gives the ball a heaving kick downfield. Clarke is there to receive. Also, so is Luna. Luna is somehow everywhere, and Lexa credits her for her astuteness.

Clarke doesn’t have the finesse Luna does, choppy in her power rush forward, and Lexa quickly catches up for support.

“Clarke, Clarke!” Lexa calls.

And Clarke manages to tap the ball in Lexa’s direction. It’s a mirror image of what transpired earlier—this time Luna on the chase, Lexa with the ball, and Luna urges Lexa out of bounds along the sidelines.

“Clarke,” Lexa says to the blonde, a simply earshot away before taking the sidelines. “Be ready.”

Clarke nods in easy acknowledgment because the ball is going to her.

The referee tosses Lexa the ball and with the whistle, Lexa takes two large steps forward and does a flip-throw** into the field, propelling the ball to the far left end where Clarke gets a piece of it.

Clarke head-butts the soccer ball at the net and Lexa is about to jump in triumph. The ball is on its way in, but Oregon’s goalie makes a desperate dive, clipping the ball with her fingertips and diverting it wide. Wide-right, towards Lexa.

The net is _completely_ open with Oregon’s goalie sprawled on her stomach and scrambling to recover. She doesn’t nearly recover fast enough as Lexa closes in on the rebound and secures their victory.

Lexa can’t believe it, hasn’t yet registered their win even with the band playing a ruckus along the sidelines, fans cheering, and teammates jumping.

Her momentary shock immediately dissipates when she sees Clarke running at her in a full sprint and hurdles her body into Lexa’s arms, nearly knocking her over. Lexa feels a bit like the iconic sailor’s return, with the girl running into their arms and spinning with feet kicked up.

“You did it, Lex! You did it! We fucking won!”

Lexa glances up at Clarke, smiling wide in pure merriment. Clarke looks wonderful and Lexa wants to kiss her. In the rush of winning, adrenaline spiked with victory, it’s the perfect moment.

They lock eyes and Clarke’s smile turns serious, she also recognizes the moment.

It’s really about to happen—Lexa tilts her chin up, Clarke down.

Centimeters.

Suddenly, a shock of _ice cold_ hits Lexa—hits them both like lighting and a flash of yellow splits them apart.

Five gallons of bright yellow Gatorade soak them. Their teammates are laughing and cheering, and Clarke and Lexa are driven away from each other to celebrate with the others.

As the festivities die down and the team files into the locker room, Lexa is pulled aside—pulled away from Clarke, by the media seeking a post-game interview.

“Lexa Woods, Lexa Woods!”

A microphone is shoved in her face along with a large camera. Lexa’s never been much for being behind the camera, it makes her nervous, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Nevertheless, she flashes a smile at the camera.

“Lexa Woods, how does it feel to get the game-winning goal?”

“Uh—well, as expected, it feels great.”

“And no doubt an incredible performance your freshman year.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you think it would come down to this, considering what happened the last time you met with the Oregon Ducks? Were you nervous?”

They are referring to her broken leg.

“Well, I think I can speak for more than just myself, of course, we were all nervous. Who wouldn’t be at the championship game? But I think we all came together as a team and, you know, was successful.”

“Speaking of coming together, is it true you and Clarke Griffin were not fans of each other at the beginning of the year?”

Lexa hates the media, this is one of the reasons why. They are so invasive.

“Uh—well, in high school, we played for opposing schools, so it was just a natural rivalry.”

“Clearly, you two have worked out your differences, stats alone, propelled this team into the championship. You’ve got quite the chemistry on the field, but many are speculating about the chemistry off field?”

_So fucking invasive._

“Um, we’re definitely really good friends. It helps that we’re roommates and have spent a lot of time off-field with each other, so I’ve just gotten a chance to know her.”

“Really good friends you say?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“We wanted to ask, with your team captain graduating this year, do you foresee the big “C” for yourself next year?”

“Oh, that’s—that’s up to the coaches and there’s certainly a lot of good leadership spread throughout, certainly not just me.”

“We heard from a birdie that it’s between you and Clarke Griffin, how do you feel about that?”

This is new news to Lexa.

“Either way, I um, I guess we’ll just see what happens.”

The interview goes for another agonizing twenty minutes and by the time Lexa makes it back to the locker room, it’s empty.

She takes a quick shower, eager to meet back up with her teammates—to meet back up with Clarke. When she exits the stadium, tunneling through to their bus, she spots Clarke in the parking lot. And she’s not alone.

 _Luna_ is talking her up.

That same churn stirs in Lexa’s stomach. She and Clarke make brief eye contact. It’s a little bit awkward, as if Clarke didn’t want to be spotted talking to Luna. Lexa darts her gaze and heads directly for their bus. She takes a seat by the window and can feel her body winding down from the win.

Within minutes, Clarke is making her way down the aisle of the bus.

“Hey,” Clarke takes the seat next to Lexa. They always sit together.

“Hey.”

“Why do you look so sad? We just won.”

“It’s um, it’s nothing.”

“You sure… you um, seem off?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

Thankfully, Clarke leaves it at that. Though, after stowing her backpack, Lexa feels Clarke rest her head on her shoulder.

“Mmm…” Clarke partly groans, “I’m so tired. This bus ride back is going to suck.”

It’s an eight and half hour overnight bus ride home. School budget cuts mean minimizing hotel stays, and anything less than a 12-hour bus ride is just that.

“I hate sleeping upright,” Clarke mumbles into Lexa’s shoulder.

“Here,” Lexa shifts and leans her back on the window, opening her right arm for Clarke to rest on her chest.

“Mmm… you’re the best,” Clarke says, snaking an arm under Lexa and squeezing around the waist.

Lexa brings her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and gives her a return squeeze.

“So um… what happened with number eight?”

Clarke looks up with squinted, sleepy eyes, “Is that why you’re being all weird?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Whatever. But she asked for my number, I said no.”

“No?”

“No.”

Clarke drops her head and nuzzles deeper into Lexa.

“She’s not really my type,” Clarke mumbles with a yawn.

This is how they fall asleep, happily snuggled into each other for the entire duration of the ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Despite being the Stanford Cardinals, their mascot really is a homemade tree. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_Tree
> 
> **Flip-throw recommended by @goaliegirl812  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLoBNf25X3w


	12. Christmas in July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa gets an unexpected invite. Also, Ranya!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anybody else celebrating Christmas in July? My house is, and I spent hours the other day making cardboard cutouts of a polar bear, gingerbread man, and reindeer. Anyway, happy early Xmas because not only am I extending this fic one more chapter, but I'm also making a series out of it. Yes, you read right. A series! Yay!
> 
> Serious shout out to @dreamsaremywords for support and inspiration! If you haven't already, check out her fics!!!
> 
> Also, if you follow any of my other works, I've mentioned that I'll be traveling the entire month of August, so I'm doing my best to update everything and hopefully will get to Devotion to Duty.

The squeak and hiss of the bus brakes wake Clarke, where she finds herself comfortably resting on Lexa’s chest. She didn’t anticipate sleeping the entire way but apparently did.

Looking up, Lexa is still asleep. She looks peaceful and pretty when she sleeps, like a princess from one of the Disney movies. Clarke wishes she could wake Lexa with a kiss.

She thought they shared something on the field just after they won. _Thought_. But Clarke caught a clip of Lexa’s post-game interview and Lexa was very explicit about one thing that rang clear to Clarke.

They are _good friends._

Lexa’s exact words—recorded and broadcasted with zero ambiguity. This is how Lexa must view their relationship and the realization settles in Clarke—maybe she should have taken Luna’s number.

“Lexa.” Clarke gently rubs Lexa’s shoulder.

“Hm.”

“Lexa wake up. We’re home.”

Clarke checks the time on her phone, it’s just past 4:30 in the morning. The team files out of the bus with groggy faces and aching bodies—looking like a bunch of zombies.

For Clarke and Lexa, it’s a short walk across the east side of campus before they reach their dorm. Clarke watches Lexa curl into bed and at that moment, Clarke decides to give Lexa some space. Because regardless of how Clarke feels, Lexa evidently doesn’t feel the same way.

So, Clarke crawls into her own bed and hugs her pillow. Slowly, fatigue overcomes her disappointment, making peace with what Lexa had said on camera, and Clarke falls asleep.

/

The next few weeks become routine before winter break. Both are studying their asses off for finals in addition to cranking out their term papers. Subsequently, there’s been little time to go out, watch movies, and binge Netflix. And without that, there’s no excuse to snuggle. It makes Clarke a little sad, but, she’s managing.

“Ugh, I’m done,” Lexa says, closing her book. “There’s only so much information I can cram into my brain.”

Clarke continues to type, finishing a thought before responding. “Wanna take a break then?”

“More than a break, I think I’m done for the night.”

Quietly, Lexa begins to pack her study materials. They’re in the library.

“Think I’m going to throw on a movie, take a break, wanna join?”

“Um, I’m right in the middle of this… I’ll catch up with you in a little bit,” Clarke says with a quick and easy smile.

“Okay.”

Clarke only means to stay for another hour or so but is caught in the rhythm of writing and finishes her paper in the better half of six hours, essentially pulling an all-nighter.

When she returns to the dorm around 5 A.M., she finds Lexa asleep with her laptop on Netflix’s home screen.

Tiptoeing, Clarke puts down her book bag and walks across to Lexa. She closes Lexa’s laptop for her and puts it away. Then, as Clarke is pulling the covers over Lexa’s shoulders, tucking Lexa in, she feels Lexa take a hold of her hand.

“Sorry,” Clarke whispers, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

The combination of the tug on her hand and look Lexa gives says one thing—Lexa wants Clarke to join her. Except, Clarke is conflicted, afraid she is misinterpreting _everything._

But, her doubt fades when Lexa mumbles a soft, “C’mere.”

They haven’t laid together since the bus ride home from Oregon. It’s an easy decision for Clarke.

“Yeah… okay,” Clarke whispers. “Just um… just let me get ready for bed.”

Lexa nods, letting go of Clarke’s hand.

By the time Clarke has her PJ’s on, Lexa’s slightly more awake with large, green eyeballs following Clarke gently across the room until Clarke climbs into bed with her, nestling into Lexa’s chest. It feels nice, natural and soothing. Clarke has missed this and resists to urge to say so.

“Did you get a lot done?” Lexa asks, resting her chin on top of Clarke’s head.

“Yeah, actually, finished my paper.”

“Mm, that’s good. Was wondering where you were.”

“I started with the outline but ended up writing the whole thing. Wanna give it a proofread for me?”

“Sure, tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Well… later today, much later.”

Silence for a moment as Clarke is about to close her eyes. Her mind is drained from finishing the paper and being in Lexa’s arms feels too perfect. She’s at the cusp of sleep when Clarke realizes how much she’ll _miss_ Lexa over winter break—the Tahoe trip isn’t until New Years, effectively separating them for almost two weeks.

“Lex,” Clarke mumbles.

“Hm?”

“If your dad is still deployed, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mm, well... I considered going to see my aunt.”

“Oh…”

“Even if I do, just be a couple days, then I was just going to go home until Tahoe.”

“Home, alone?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the first time,” Lexa says all too casually, yawning.

“ _Lexa_ ,” Clarke looks up.

“What?”

“You were going to spend Christmas all by yourself?”

Lexa gives a little shrug, “Yeah… s’fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Well… um,” Clarke swallows, nervous with a tremble as the words fall out of her lips. “Why don’t you come spend it with me..?”

“I’d feel weird to infringe on your family gathering.”

“No, my mom’s not like that. She practically invites the entire neighborhood. You can meet all my friends.”

“Um…”

“And isn’t Anya still down at UCLA?”

“Yeah.”

“We could drive down, together…?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Lexa says with an added squeeze around Clarke’s shoulders.

“Plus, I’m sure my mom’s going to have new footage from our game.”

Lexa gives a small, amused exhale, “Then I’ll definitely be there.”

//

Finals are over; Clarke and Lexa have successfully completed their freshman semester and on this Friday, they are officially on winter break.

_Lexa: anya, change of plans_

_Anya: change of plans what_

_Lexa: im heading down with clarke, going to spend xmas w her, then tahoe_

_Lexa: got time to meet up for a few days?_

_Anya: ya_

_Anya: so its official now_

_Lexa: what_

_Anya: meeting the girls parents, over xmas_

_Lexa: and_

_Anya: pls tell me you’ve fucked_

_Lexa: I dont know what youre talking about_

_Lexa: and no, we haven’t fucked_

_Lexa: like I said before, its not like that_

_Anya: [rolling eyeball emoji]_

There is no fooling Lexa’s best friend. Anya called it from the beginning and Thanksgiving break was an epic fail for Lexa. Her intention to “get over” Clarke equated to falling deeper for her roommate. The extended FaceTimes and conversations over the phone only rendered Lexa missing Clarke more.  

After their championship game, Lexa _swore_ there was something there. Except, in recent days, Clarke has been mysteriously dodgy and spending long days (and nights) at the 24-hour library. Lexa worried that they had come too close—that maybe this— _them_ , isn’t what Clarke wanted after all.

Except as Clarke was tucking her in the other night, Lexa couldn’t resist the handhold, asking Clarke to come snuggle in bed with her. Lexa anticipated a “no” from Clarke and was prepared to give up on her feelings altogether, but, Clarke gave Lexa a crumble of hope, inviting Lexa to join her over Christmas. Lexa was well prepared to spend some serious time with her PlayStation 4.

“Hey, Lexa!”

Clarke is calling her from the hallway.

“Yeah!”

“Will you grab my power cord? I think I left it plugged in the wall.”

Lexa checks Clarke’s side of the room.

“Got it!”

They throw their bags into Lexa’s car and are eagerly off on this mini-road trip down to Southern California.

“You wanna listen to some music or book on tape?” Lexa offers Clarke, who has already taken off her shoes and kicked up her feet on the dash.

“Mm, maybe later, I kinda wanna nap.”

“We got up like two hours ago. You’re _always_ napping.”

“So, cars make me sleepy,” Clarke replies. “And I have to make up for that all-nighter I pulled writing my paper the other day.” Clarke balls up her hoodie and leans it against the window as a makeshift pillow. “But… thanks for driving though, Lex. I’d split the drive time if, you know, I knew how to drive stick.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind driving. Just… happy to have the company,” Lexa says, smiling.

“Mm,” Clarke returns Lexa smile.

Lexa watches Clarke’s eyes drift close—loves the way Clarke’s hair looks splayed across her shoulders and over the seatbelt. It shines gold in the sunlight, just like Clarke’s face, Clarke’s eyes. Everything Clarke. Usually, the stick shift doesn’t bother Lexa, but it’s doing a great job of preventing Lexa from reaching across because she _really_ wants to take a hold of Clarke’s hand.

For the next two hours, Lexa drives in silence with frequent glances at Clarke. This moment easily makes it to Lexa’s top ten—well, any moment with Clarke really. But something about having Clarke in her car, napping. It’s precious like Clarke is hers to hold and keep.

The sound of Clarke’s buzzing phone breaks Lexa out of her regard.

“Hello?” Clarke groans an answer. “Yeah mom, we’re on our way. Should be there around 6 or 7, yeah yeah, whatever is fine. Ugh, she’s not picky mom. Okay fine.” Clarke brings down her phone, turns her attention to Lexa, “My mom wants to know if you mind spinach in the lasagna she’s making,” Clarke rolls her eyes with this question.

“Um… spinach is fine.”

Clarke brings the phone back to her ear, “Like I said, mom, she doesn’t care. M’kay, um, a pint of the Phish food flavor and mint chip. Thanks, mom, bye.” Clarke hangs up.

“Good morning, Princess.” Lexa greets.

Clarke groans again, “Mmph, I have to pee. Can’t we stop?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll pull over at the next rest stop. Top off the gas too.”

For some reason, the gas station also means Clarke needs to make out like a bandit with a bag full of chips, candy, drinks, and a donut in her mouth.

“Jesus, Clarke. You know we’re allowed to stop more than once. And with all those drinks you have, it looks that way.”

Lexa observes a giant coffee in Clarke’s hand, complemented by two large bottles of Gatorade, Diet Coke, and a Red Bull. Not to mention the biggest bag of Takis a gas station has to offer, beef jerky, and gummy bears.

“Shut up, I was thinking of you.”

“What?”

“Well, I figured we could split everything,” Clarke holds up the bag of snacks, “and the iced coffee, one of the Gatorades and the Red Bull is for you. You know, in case you got tired.”

“Considering it’s two in the afternoon, I think I’m okay Clarke.”

“Stop being such a smartass,” Clarke shoves the Gatorade at Lexa. “Plus, I got your favorite flavor, regular yellow.”

Lexa tones down her sarcasm—a tactic to hide her sudden rise of flattery—and takes the Gatorade, cracking it open.  

“Thank you, Clarke.”

Hitting the road again, Clarke is much more alert and pulls up the music app on her phone.

“What do you want to listen?”

“They have any good road trip playlists?”

Clarke browses through several playlists. “What about this one? It’s called ‘Wanderer’?”

“Sure.”

It’s a nice playlist, light and easygoing that sets a laidback mood.

“Lexa, would you want to go on a real road trip sometime? Maybe uh, this summer?”

Lexa smiles, she would love to go anywhere with Clarke. Spend the entire damn summer with Clarke. The possibilities.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I dunno, somewhere more than just six hours.”

“Yeah. But you’re going to have to help with the driving… I could teach you, sometime?” Lexa nods down at the shifter.

“Okay, and then we can plan our trip?”

“Deal.”

/

They make good time and despite three additional stops to spare Clarke’s bladder, they are in the neighborhood by 7 P.M. Clarke lives in a nice neighborhood with large oak trees running down the sidewalks and rich, green lawns. Winter in Southern California isn’t exactly winter, temperatures are currently in the low 60’s.

When Lexa pulls up to Clarke’s house, the _amount_ of Christmas decorations is intimidated.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Lexa says, looking directly at a glowing nativity scene amidst a ginormous blow-up snow globe with swirling fake snow, a lawn full of light-up candy canes and toy soldiers.

“Oh, sorry,” Clarke replies as she’s cleaning out the empty candy wrappers and plastic bottles by her feet. “My mom _loves_ Christmas. We’re not really that religious, so, you know,” Clarke brushes the air, “don’t worry.”

“Got it…” Lexa nods with reassurance. Lexa once dated a girl whose father was a pastor—nothing wrong with that, except Lexa had dinner with the family once and he only spoke to her in Bible quotes, not realizing she and his daughter were fucking.

They make it down Santa’s driveway, bypassing a few of the reindeer and Santa himself. It’s a two-story house with a swing on the front porch, Clarke opens the unlocked door.

“Hey, mom!”

A waft of _food_ hits Lexa in the face as she enters. Even with all the junk food during the drive, Lexa’s stomach churns in response. It’s a homey house. Welcoming. Clarke’s mom emerges from the kitchen.

“Hey, honey!” She gives Clarke a big hug and shifts her gaze to Lexa. “And you must be Lexa!”

Lexa nods politely. “Hi, Ms. Griffin.”

“Oh, just call me Abby,” and leans in to give Lexa a brief hug. “Clarke mentions you all the time.”

_Clarke mentions me? To her mom?_

“I saw your championship game on TV the other day and aren’t you two just wonderful stars on the field!”

“Uh, thank you.”

“You know, I’ve watched Clarke grow up playing soccer and you two play like you’ve known each other for years!”

“Ahem, mom…”

“Oh, sorry dear. I’m just so happy to finally meet you, Lexa.”

Lexa nods with a polite smile on her face.

“So, I set up the spare bedroom with the air mattress,” Abby says.

 It’s the most disappointing news Lexa’s heard all day.

“Oh—mom, I said we didn’t need that. We could share my room.”

“Oh no dear, Lexa should have a space of her own, especially if she’s going to be with us for almost two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Lexa forces herself to say. “I appreciate it very much.”

“See,” Abby uses Lexa’s words to prove her point. “Well, I’m going to go check on the food, why don’t you show Lexa where her room is and clean up before dinner.”

“Thank you, again. Ms—Abby.”

“C’mon,” Clarke nods, “this way.”

They head upstairs where Clarke shows Lexa into the spare room and Lexa drops her duffle and backpack.

“And… this is my room,” Clarke says, opening the door.

There’s a special feeling that comes with seeing Clarke’s room as if being let in on a secret. The pictures, concert stubs on Clarke’s mirrors, decorations on her wall—it’s personal. Intimate even. To see so much of somebody on display.

“Aw cool,” Lexa steps in towards a very valuable item. A signed soccer ball within a glass case.

“Oh yeah, Mia Hamm,” Clarke says. “It was so embarrassing though, I’m pretty sure I cried in front of her when she was signing it.”

“At least you stayed standing. I met Abby Wambach once and almost fainted.”

Placed around the glass case is the remainder of Clarke’s soccer paraphernalia: medals, small trophies, and whatnot. Lexa makes her way around Clarke’s room and scans the photos taped to the mirror. Friends of Clarke’s, although there’s one who makes her way into almost all of Clarke’s picture and it Lexa wonders if it’s an ex of Clarke’s.

“That’s Raven, my best friend. Well, you are too, you know what I mean,” Clarke narrates. “You’ll get to meet her. And this is our other friend, Octavia, she’s at UC San Diego.” Clarke drags her finger across, “This is her older brother Bellamy, he was a senior when we were all freshmen. Jasper, the class clown. And Monty.”

“Looks like a really fun group.”

“They are—you’ll see. Everyone will be at Tahoe,” Clarke flashes an eager smile, looking forward to the trip.

“Girls!” Abby calls from downstairs. “Dinner!”

Dinner with Clarke’s mother isn’t as awkward as Lexa initially feared. They sit at the dining table, just the three of them passing the salad, bread, and thick squares of lasagna. The conversation is easy and casual.

“This is really good, Abby, thank you,” Lexa says.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it. I made extra for leftovers,” Abby replies. “Work keeps me busy, so I don’t get a chance to cook often.”

“You’re a doctor, right?”

“Yes, which, by the way, I have a few night shifts this week, so you two girls will be on your own. I’ll leave you some money to order pizza or whatever.”

As Clarke nods, Lexa gulps. _This entire house, to themselves_? Though they’re roommates and technically have spent every night together, it feels… wrong to Lexa. Risqué. As if she were back in high school and being left alone with her girlfriend.

They finish dinner and Lexa helps with the dishes before taking a seat on the couch.

“Thanks so much for helping with the dishes Lexa, I’m going to bed for the night girls,” says Abby. “I have an early morning at work tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Kay, night mom,” Clarke responds, giving her mom a kiss on the cheek good night.

“Good night Abby.”

Christmas candy litter every horizontal surface and Lexa snags a couple chocolates before sitting on the couch. Clarke follows, plopping alongside Lexa with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. Lexa wishes it were one.  

“I was thinking,” Clarke says while taking the first spoonful of ice cream, “wanna go to Santa Monica Pier tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Lexa’s spoon clinks against Clarke’s. “That sounds nice. What’s there?”

“The beach, shops, roller coaster, games and stuff. Have you never been?”

“No. Went to Disney once when I was like twelve, that’s pretty much the extent of my SoCal experience.”

“And nowhere else?”

“Mm-nm,” Lexa shakes her head. “I’ve only been in California for three years, moved during the beginning of my junior year when my dad accepted a job transfer out here. Technically I grew up on the east coast, just outside of DC.”

“How did I not know this about you?”

Lexa shrugs, “Never asked.”

“That makes so much more sense now.”

“What?”

“Well, I was wondering why I’d never seen you before in any of the summer soccer camps and we played against your school every year. But only remember you my senior year.”

“Considering how we met, would you have wanted to know me earlier?”

“Well…” Clarke flashes Lexa some serious adorable fucking eyes, the big wide kind that only puppies and other baby animals are allowed to have. “You’ve grown on me.”

“Me too…”

Clarke flips on the television and they settle on a movie: _Wonder Woman._ Less than ten minutes in, Clarke lays down on Lexa’s lap, curling up into the fetal position no different from their routine cuddles back in their dorm. But the setting, the atmosphere—Clarke’s _house_ changes Lexa’s perspective. It’s nice and cozy and makes Lexa’s stomach warm comfortably. The only thing they’re missing is snow outside, but Lexa will accept the plastic snow globe, still uplifting a flurry of fake snow through the windows.

Lexa snakes her right hand across Clarke’s stomach, into the front hoodie pocket where Clarke’s hand is tucked and threads their fingers together.

This is perfect.

//

Clarke wakes to the TV’s menu screen with Lexa snug against her back and fingers intertwined.

Lexa is sleeping behind her with her body half slumped along the arm of the couch. The Christmas lights have turned themselves off, her mom has them on a timer, and Clarke looks at the time on their old grandfather clock. It’s nearly one in the morning.

“Lexa?” Clarke rolls herself around, reluctantly letting go of Lexa’s hand and props herself up.

 “Lexa?” She gives Lexa a light shake on the elbow.

“Hm?” The brunette pops open a single eye, followed by the other.

“C’mon, we should go to bed.”

Lexa yawns, then nod, slowly rolling herself out of the dip in the couch.

They make their way upstairs and it feels odd to part ways; Lexa walking down the hall towards the guest room and Clarke the opposite.

“Um, good night Lexa.”

“G’night.”

Clarke closes her door and although Lexa is just down the hall, feels incredibly far away.

The sound of a text dinging through draws Clarke’s attention. She smiles when she sees who it is.

_Lexa: should I set my alarm for a certain time?_

_Clarke: parking gets crowded after 10_

_Lexa: k, 9?_

_Clarke: 9 is good, we can go out to my fav place for breakfast burritos_

_Lexa: [emojis of burritos and a giant smiley face]_

_Clarke: [burrito and food gifs]_

_Lexa: lol_

This texting gibberish goes on for _two_ hours despite being less than twenty feet away from each other.

_Clarke: would you rather…_

_Clarke: accidentally ride your bike over a squirrel or mow over a bunny?_

_Lexa: clarke… why are your questions so violent_

_Lexa: and graphic_

_Lexa: i like animals_

_Clarke: you have to pick, thats the whole point_

_Lexa:…we really should get to bed_

_Lexa: its almost 3_

_Lexa: esp if you want me up by 9 for [burrito emoji]_

_Clarke: youre just avoiding the question_

_Lexa: ill tell you in the morning_

_Lexa: goodnight_

_Clarke: [grumpy cat gif]_

_Lexa: [kissing heart emoji]_

That’s different. It takes Clarke by slight surprise. She doesn’t want to read too much into it, but not only did Lexa hold her hand tonight, but sent her, her first heart-anything. Maybe Lexa does feel the same way? Excitement pulses through Clarke’s veins and Clarke shudders at the realization.

It scares the _shit_ out of her.

She’s _never_ felt like this before; barred by her feelings and unable to act on them because Lexa is paralyzing. Kryptonite to Supergirl.

Clarke doesn’t respond, puts the phone down and curls under her covers.

/

_Ding!_

“And we have a winner!” the attendant behind stand announces into the microphone. “What would you like?”

Lexa just hit the bell on high striker at Santa Monica Pier. They’re surrounded by the sounds of the roller coast, carnival games, and arcade.

“Clarke?” Lexa looks at Clarke with what Clarke swears are the biggest, googly eyes she’s seen on the brunette yet. “Would you like something?”

It’s ridiculously hot, how Lexa just picked up the sledgehammer like a pro, swung it around her shoulders and _actually_ hit the teeter, sending the marker all the way up.

“Um… the uh, bear’s fine,” Clarke nods at the teddy bear aligned on the display.  

The attendant takes the teddy bear and hands it to Lexa—only for Lexa to give it to Clarke. “Here.”

“Thanks… Lexa.” Clarke can feel her cheeks blushing. She is entirely flattered and hugs the bear with a lean into Lexa’s shoulder.

Clarke almost swoons when Lexa drapes her arm around her and they continue walking down the boardwalk. Clarke reaches to wrap her own arm around Lexa’s waist, tucking closer into the brunette as the evening breeze picks up. The salt spray mists by their faces, seagulls circle above, and waves crest below.

“Where um—where did you learn how to do that?” Clarke asks. “I’ve watched guys hit it as hard as they can and don’t even get close.”

“We had a fireplace, back where I use to live and I spent a lot of time—I mean a lot of time, chopping wood.”

“Oh… well um, it was really um… impressive.”

“Thanks,” Lexa replies and gives Clarke’s shoulders a squeeze.

It’s been the _best_ day. Starting out with Clarke’s favorite place for breakfast burritos, she and Lexa spent the day in Santa Monica grazing the local shops, eating hot dogs, and playing games.

“So, you said Raven’s going to meet us for dinner?” says Lexa.

Clarke nods and reaches in her pocket for her phone.

_Clarke: where u at?_

_Raven: looking for fucking parking_

“Raven’s looking for parking.”

“Okay,” Lexa gives an easy shrug.

“What did Anya say?”

_Lexa: where are you?_

_Anya: my uber driver is an idiot_

 “She’s on her way,” Lexa says, putting her phone away. “We can just meet her there.”

They continue down the boardwalk with the sun setting behind them. The restaurant is just a few blocks away and Clarke spots Raven walking from the opposite direction.

“Clarkey!”

 “Hey, Rae!” Clarke untucks herself from Lexa to give Raven a hug. “This is um Lexa, Lexa—Raven.”

Before more words are shared, Anya is dropped off in perfect timing.

“Thank you!” Anya says to the driver followed by a, “not,” after she closes the door.

“Hey, Ahn!”

“Hey, Lexa!”

Anya has piercing eyes that are intimidating, and Clarke feels as if she needs to hide behind Lexa.

“Clarke,” Anya says with those eyes landing on the blonde, “as I recall,” and her gaze shifts to Raven. “And…?”

“Raven,” Raven extends a hand. “You played with Lexa, right? That championship game,” Raven is referring to the game where Clarke and Lexa wrestled each other in the grass over a year ago.

“Yeah, I remember you. Right striker, right?” Anya says.

“Yeah... you were their defender,” Raven recalls Anya’s position.

There’s a _weird_ silence as Raven and Anya eye each other up and down.

“Okay!” Clarke announces, “you guys wanna go inside?”

“Sure,” Raven says.

They’re escorted to a booth with Clarke sitting next to Raven, across from Lexa and diagonal to Anya. It wouldn’t normally be so awkward, but there’s some serious eye contact going on between Raven and Anya.

_Clarke: do you see this?_

_Lexa: the ranya eye-fucking, yes_

Clarke laughs out loud, covering her mouth as it draws the table’s attention to her. Luckily, the waiter arrives before Clarke must answer for herself.

“Good evening ladies, here’s some water to start with and I’ll give you a few moments with the menus, k?”

They all nod with bobbing heads as the waiter leaves them with the menus.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom,” Anya says and gives Lexa a light elbow shove to come along.

“Me too,” Lexa slips down the booth and follows Anya to the restroom.

“Lexa, why didn’t you tell me Raven was going to be here?”

“How was I supposed to know that she was the one you’ve been crushing on since that game? I received my first ever red card, remember? Was a little distracted.”

“Oh, that’s right, your head’s too far shoved between Clarke’s legs,” Anya says playfully.

“Excuse me Ahn, but nothing has happened. Clarke and I are just really good friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

/

“So, you and Lexa finally fuck? You guys were _pretty_ close when I strolled up.”

“What? Rae no, it’s not—and what about that eye fucking between you and Anya?”

“Oh yeah, I’m super into her. Trust, I’m not leaving without her number. But this isn’t about me, I’m not the one in denial here and—” Raven snags Clarke’s teddy bear and shakes it as hard evidence. “What the hell is this and when did you turn into a melting pool of… fluff?!” She shakes the teddy bear even harder.

/

“You are _so_ in love with her Lex. Giving her a fucking teddy bear? When did you get so soft?”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

/

“Can’t you see? She’s _changing_ you. This isn’t you!”

“Raven, I’m fine.”

/

“Stop denying it and I’ll drop it. I’m just trying to look out for you,” says Anya. “Keeping you honest.”

/

“Okay, fine,” says Clarke.

Raven’s jaw drops, “Did you say… fine?”

/

“Yes, _fine_ ,” Lexa admits. “I like her… but I don’t think she feels the same way. So, I’m kind of… taking it slow. I don’t want to scare Clarke away.”

/

“Lexa doesn’t seem to scare easy…”

“Well, no, she doesn’t. But—but, I dunno, it’s different…” Clarke continues her reasoning. “She has this… aura effect. I don’t know how to describe it and it makes me all… nervous. Plus, if I try to jump her in my own house and she doesn’t reciprocate, it’s going to be _terrible_ when we go back to school…”

/

“As roommates, remember?” Lexa says. “I’ll feel like a creep.”

/

“And what if it’s all…”

/

“Awkward.”

/

“Super weird,” says Clarke.

/

“And then we have to request to change rooms.”

/

“And ruin everything, Rae.”

/

“Ruin soccer next year. Hell, soccer for the next three years, Ahn.”

“Wow,” Anya says with a slacked jaw, “you are just… what’s the word… useless.”

Lexa huffs, “Will you just… let me do my own thing? I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

Lexa remains unamused and flashes a very deadpanning stare.

“Fine, fine,” Anya says, throwing up her arms. “Just make yourself useful again and help me get Raven’s number.”

“Easy enough,” Lexa gestures at the air and they exit the bathroom.

/

“Oh, here they come,” says Raven and picks up a menu.

Dinner is fun. The four interact flawlessly, laughing and comparing their freshman experiences since high school graduation. While Clarke and Lexa don’t miss the subtle flirting between their two best friends, they continue to connect eyes and smiles between each other.

“Tahoe’s going to be a blast,” Raven says towards the end of dinner. “You’re coming, right Anya.”

Anya nods, “Yes, I’ll definitely be there. I had to practically respond for this useless one here.” Anya gestures at Lexa.

“Oh my god! Same, same,” Raven answers while eyeballing Clarke.

“You know, Lexa and I are _right_ here,” Clarke says.

“Yeah…” Raven shrugs, “but, have you seen you two?”

“What about us?” Lexa says.

“Hey! Lexa referred to you guys as ‘us’,” Anya comments and looks at Raven. “You think they’ll realize it in two weeks?”

“Hmm… I think… a week and a half, and I put twenty bucks down on it,” Raven says to Anya.

“Seriously, we are _right_ here,” Lexa interrupts, but it does little to deter Anya.

“Deal!” Anya says and shakes Raven’s hand across the table.

Dinner concludes, and they split the bill. Prior to parting, they discuss some last-minute logistics for Tahoe. Anya is due back at home for Christmas—mandatory family time. Lexa has orphaned herself at Anya’s before and had it not been for Clarke’s invite, considered doing the same this year.

“And you’ll stop by my house and pick up my snowboard for me, Ahn?” Lexa double checks.

“Yep, I got it.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you next week then,” Lexa replies and gives Anya a quick hug.

“Bye, Lexie.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, Anya is the _only_ one she allows to call her ‘Lexie’. “Bye Ahn. Wait, is your ride here?”

“Raven said she’d drop me off,” Anya replies with the quirk of her eyebrow.

Clarke and Lexa watch their best friends part in the opposite direction while they walk back to Lexa’s car.

“Uh—” Clarke mutters, “back there, um, what Raven and Anya were… alluding to—we’re good, right Lex?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally. Anya just… likes to give me a hard time. We’re—we’re good. 100 percent.”

“Right. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Nope, no clue…”

//

It’s the night before Christmas. The house is silent, Clarke’s mom swapped for the overnight shift, so she could have Christmas day off, leaving Clarke and Lexa home alone. They went to bed an hour ago but are still up texting each other from their respective rooms.

_Lexa: i had a lot of fun today, driving around to see the christmas lights_

_Clarke: me too_

_Clarke: what do you want to do tomorrow?_

_Lexa: its christmas tomorrow, isn’t your mom hosting a giant dinner?_

_Clarke: yeah, but its in the evening, we can go somewhere during the day_

_Lexa: whats open on christmas day except for chinese restaurants_

_Clarke: movies_

“Hey!”

“Oh my god! Clarke!” Lexa flinches from Clarke entering her room. Clarke didn’t exactly burst in, it was just unexpected. “What—”

“Scoot over.”

“What?”

“You heard me, scoot over. I was going to send you all the trailers but figured we can just watch them together, pick out a movie tomorrow.”

Clarke hops on the air mattress with her phone open on all the upcoming movie trailers. They watch three trailers and decide on the new Spider-Man, although the Mary Poppins sequel was tempting. They both agree on the gained action effect of the big screen and surround sound.

“Are you sleeping okay on this air mattress, by the way?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I mean, it’s a little—” Lexa searches for the word as Clarke continues to make herself comfortable. Her drastic movements make Lexa feel like she’s laying inside a bouncy-house. “Bouncy, but, whatever.”

“Well… you’re um, welcome to share my bed,” Clarke offers. “At least, you know, tonight since my mom’s not here.”

Lexa’s not sure if the invite is laced with anything remotely sexual, but Clarke’s eyes look sparkling blue against the glowing Christmas lights outside. Lexa’s afraid she’s just projecting her own feelings onto Clarke and spinning everything Clarke says in a non-platonic manner.

“It’s no different from what we do back in the dorms,” Clarke quickly reasons.

“Uh—no, I suppose it’s not.”

“Okay, well, c’mon then,” Clarke says. And just as quickly as she flopped down, Clarke rolls off the bed and takes Lexa’s hand, pulling Lexa towards her bedroom.

Even though Abby isn’t home, Lexa feels like she needs to sneak. The floorboards creak underneath the rugs and door hinges squeal.

“Uh, Clarke. What time does your mom get off work for Christmas tomorrow?”

“She’s working the twelve-hour shift. So, she’ll be home around seven in the morning.”

“Okay… should I um, set an alarm?”

“Uh yeah… just in case…”

They crawl into Clarke’s bed and it’s _considerably_ nicer than the air matters. Everything is fluffy, from Clarke’s giant pillows to her big comforter. And the plus side, it _smells_ like Clarke. All of her, everywhere.  

“Okay, I’m not gonna lie Clarke, but this is way more comfortable than the air mattress—I don’t know if I can go back after tonight…”

Clarke turns to lock eyes. “So… don’t…” Clarke’s mouth continues to rest slightly agape and Lexa has to remember to swallow.

There’s a beat of silence while blue and green eyes roam. They are studying each other’s faces in the cast of multi-colored icicle lights.

“To be honest… I um—” Clarke curls in closer to Lexa and tugs lightly on Lexa’s sleep shirt. “I kinda... missed you…”

This generates a look of amusement on Lexa’s face and she chuckles lightly. “Clarke, I was _just_ down the hall.”

Clarke darts her eyes sideways, “I know but… it’s not the same.”

Lexa says nothing, frankly because she doesn’t know how to respond. Her eyes simple rove, trying to read Clarke and digesting what she just heard. Clarke missed her? But before Lexa can respond, Clarke buries her face into Lexa’s chest.

“Oh my gosh, you’re making me feel stupid,” Clarke says. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Clarke,” Lexa hugs Clarke and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind. “What—”

“Just, never mind!” Clarke says, muffled by Lexa’s shirt.

“Okay…”

For lack of knowing what to do, Lexa simply rubs Clarke’s back, letting her hands brush up to the nape of Clarke’s neck and returning to the small of Clarke’s back.

“Mmm…” Clarke nuzzles in closer. “That feels nice.”

Slowly, Lexa tips her head down, places a kiss of Clarke’s forehead, and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

Lexa can _feel_ the smile on Clarke’s face, can hear it in the blonde’s response. “Merry Christmas, Lexa.”


	13. Sky Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Stellar Collision Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell here it is! I can’t believe I started this fic a year ago - writing has recently transformed my life and I've since made some new awesome friends through this fandom as well as challenge/explore myself as a writer! Thank you for your continued support and support for each other! 
> 
> So, I almost split this chapter in half, but, nnaaahhhhh. So without further ado...

The recognizable click and thud of the front door wakes Clarke—her mom is home, _early._

“Shit...” Clarke shuffles to find her limbs tangled with Lexa’s. Though they didn’t do anything, this is not how Clarke wants to come out as bisexual to her mom; Abby walking in on her daughter cuddling with her roommate on Christmas morning.

“Lexa!” Clarke shakes the brunette. “Lexa, wake up, my mom’s home.”

“Wha—” Lexa winces, slowly sliding an eye open in a way so adorable, Clarke wishes she has the time to appreciate.

“You gotta get out!”

Clarke nudges Lexa, accidentally sending her best friend rolling off the bed.

“Whoa!” Lexa says, landing in a heavy thump.

“Shit! Sorry, are you okay?”

Groaning, Lexa stands, the fog of sleep clouding her eyes. “Ow… I thought we set an alarm?”

“She’s home _early._ Go! Hurry!”

“Fuck…” Lexa mumbles and reaches for the doorknob. Just as she does, the door swings inward and Lexa plants herself flush against the wall, effectively hiding behind the door.

“Clarke? Is everything alright? I thought I heard a noise?”

“Oh, hey mom! Yeah, I’m fine, what noise?” Clarke says, eyes glued to Lexa.

Abby steps into the room, walking around the end of Clarke’s bed to peer out her window. “Hm, if you were younger I’d joke it was Santa Claus on the roof but—”

While Abby looks out the window, Clarke is frantically waving at Lexa who is slowly sneaking around the edge of the door.

“Go, go now!” Clarke mouths.

Carefully backing up, Lexa makes it halfway out the door when her heel catches the edge of the hallway rug and Lexa stumbles, catching herself on the doorframe.

Abby turns, “Lexa?”

“Hey… morning Abby,” Lexa says, and plays the opposite. “I uh, thought I heard a loud noise and thought I’d come check it out.”

“So, you heard it too?”

“Yeah, _definitely_ ,” Lexa replies, rubbing her right elbow. “Maybe one of the roof decorations fell?” Lexa suggests.

“Hm, good point,” Abby replies and crosses the room. “I’m going to go check the yard. Also, pancakes for breakfast sound okay to you two?”

Clarke nods, “Yeah, sounds great mom, thanks.”

“Perfect.”

After Abby departs, identical guilty smirks spread across both their faces.

“Nice recovery,” Clarke teases, tossing a pillow at Lexa.

Lexa snatches the pillow out of the air, making her way to the foot of Clarke’s bed and lies back down. “Mn, I was having such a nice dream, too, until someone—I’m not sure who—pushed me off the bed, weird?”

“I’m sorry, I panicked. Seriously, are you okay? Want me to kiss and make it better?”

“Yeah sure, if you want to kiss the entire right side of my body,” Lexa says.  

Clarke laughs along, pretending to joke, although she’d kill to be kissing the length of Lexa’s body. There were _so_ close last night, comfortably snuggled face-to-face with nose tips touching, whispering and giggling like school children until they fell asleep.

“Hey, I thought you were more agile than that,” Clarke replies.

“Yeah, when I’m _awake_ ,” Lexa says, slipping the pillow from under her head and chucking it back at Clarke.

Clarke dodges only to grab hers and launches it at Lexa.

It happens. A pillow fight breaks between the two, chasing and flinging pillows at each other until Lexa tackles Clarke onto the bed.

“Umph! Dammit! Lex!” Clarke struggles underneath the brunette, kicking without avail. Lexa is straddling her thighs, then captures her wrists and pins them overhead. The brunette has always been deceptively strong for her size and now, with her added weight on top, Clarke is pinioned.

They’re laughing with faces inches apart when the moment shifts. Clarke swallows her breathlessness with a hum, glancing up at Lexa’s shimmering forehead—some of her pretty brown hairs are starting to stick. Clarke isn’t laughing anymore, and neither is Lexa. Clarke’s blue eyes are fitful, moving from Lexa’s eyes to her lips. Other than the bob in Lexa’s throat, Lexa remains motionless.

“Girls! Breakfast!”

Startled, Clarke sucks in a breath of air and she feels Lexa do the same above her, and just like that, the moment is lost, and Lexa is sliding off.  

/

Christmas breakfast consists of fluffy pancakes, generous slices of bacon, toast, and eggs. The morning concludes with a short session of gift unwrapping.

“Here,” Clarke says, handing Lexa a wrapped present. “Merry Christmas.”

Lexa smiles in earnest, “Clarke… you didn’t… wait—” and abruptly gets up.

“Lex? Where are you go—”

“I’ll be right back,” Lexa replies, and scurries upstairs.

Lexa returns, bearing a small, wrapped box hand. “Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

Clarke’s jaw drops, “Lexa…”

Clarke can’t fathom what Lexa got her—they never discussed presents, plus, it was immensely difficult to find something fitting for Lexa. Lexa’s practically a minimalist and rarely indulges in tech, gadgets, or otherwise. Which deems Clarke’s gift the only appropriate thing she could contemplate.

“You got me a Fitbit?” Lexa says.

“You hate it…”

“No! No… I just, didn’t think I needed one. Trying to say something, Clarke?” Lexa jokes.

“Shut up,” Clarke nudges Lexa in the shoulder. “I was thinking it’ll track all your workouts and stuff, instead of you using your handwritten logs and notebooks.”

“Aw, that’s… actually really thoughtful, and practical. Thank you, Clarke.” Lexa immediately opens the box and straps the device onto her wrist. “Does this mean it’ll beep at me for not reaching 10,000 steps a day?”

“I have no idea—not my problem,” Clarke replies and turns to her gift. It’s wrapped _perfectly._ With precision, with thought, with _care._ The definition of Lexa. The wrapping paper is thick—the expensive kind—and Lexa used invisible tape, making it hard to find the seam. Slightly frustrated, Clarke digs a fingernail in and tears it open, revealing a turquoise box from Tiffany’s. _Tiffany’s._ She opens it and discovers a silver necklace in the shape of an infinity symbol.

“Lexa…” Clarke gasps, looking up at the brunette. However, the necklace neatly straddles the line of friendship and Clarke struggles to articulate if this denotes that she means more to Lexa than a best friend—or—is just that, her best friend. Clarke is embarrassed to admit that for a split second, she secretly hoped Lexa would pop an elementary “Will you be my girlfriend?” ring; let her closeted status from her mother be damned.

“You hate it…” Lexa’s shoulders slump. “Sorry, I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t know what to get you, it’s stup—”

“I love it…” Clarke exhales. She really does because it came from Lexa. It symbolizes that Lexa thought of her enough to purchase a considerable piece of jewelry from a renowned jeweler. Unraveling the necklace, Clarke holds it up. “Would you…mind?”

“Oh,” Lexa scoots across the carpeted floor, taking the necklace and drapes it over Clarke’s neck, clicking it closed.

“Thanks, Lex,” Clarke says, placing her palm over the emblem and tucks it into her shirt.

They lounge in their pajamas, watching TV and playing video games until early afternoon. And by mid-afternoon, depart the house to go to the movies as previously discussed the night before. Though it’s late December, the sun is warm in Southern California, only requiring a light sweater to venture outside. The streets smell like fall with a sparse litter of rusty orange leaves on the sidewalk and traffic is nonexistent. Contrast to the empty streets, the movie theater is surprisingly busy, probably because it’s one of the few establishments open on Christmas day.

Clarke and Lexa settle into their seats with the largest bucket of popcorn the theater has to offer (free refills), two big sodas, and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Since their pillow fight, things have been disappointingly ordinary as no situation has since lent itself even near this morning’s. It drives Clarke to the edge of insanity—how Lexa is constantly evading her grasp. Ironically, Lexa slips her hand into Clarke’s as the theater lights dim, giving it a slight tug and welcoming Clarke close.

Smiling, Clarke takes the inviting gesture one step further and swings Lexa’s arm around her neck, snuggling into the brunette as if they were girlfriends on a movie date. When Clarke looks up at Lexa, Lexa is focused on the screen and Clarke would move mountains to know what Lexa is thinking; decode the working cogs between those gorgeous green eyes. Eyes front, Lexa is maintaining the same stare of concentration she does when studying, an expression Clarke has fantasized about—wonders if it’s the same look when Lexa is fucking someone—if Lexa were fucking her.

/

Lexa would kill to know what Clarke is thinking right now. Clarke continues to dunk her hand in the popcorn, resting between Lexa’s legs, rustling it around deep in the kernels as if it were a Cracker Jack box with a prize at the bottom. It’s unusually adorable, how Clarke brings her palm to her face to gnaw at the popcorn in the most inelegant of ways, kernels falling all around and lips smothered in butter. Lexa is attempting to concentrate on the movie, resisting the urge to peek down and stare at Clarke, only catching peripheral glimpses, though she swears Clarke’s eyes are boring a hole through her.   

Admittedly, Lexa is afraid. She’s never been afraid of anything and this is uncharted territory that spans across her chest. Clarke: a person she’s grown so accustomed and close to without the title of girlfriend. With Clarke nestled in her shoulder, this is all backwards. In past experiences, Lexa would have already kissed the girl, acting on the woo and charm she typically wielded over girls in high school. Then again, this isn’t high school. And Clarke Griffin has the unforeseen magical ability to strip Lexa of all her powers. If only Lexa could blame sorcery for her lack of confidence.

It’s frustrating and that frustration builds; a mountain of it that Lexa wishes to defeat but can’t. And right now, Clarke is making it immensely difficult because she has stopped with the popcorn and began tracing circles across the back of Lexa’s hand. Finally, Lexa upturns her hand and playfully snags at Clarke’s fingers, producing a humming giggle from the blonde.

Throughout the movie, they continue toying at each other’s hands—tracing and squeezing, locking and unlocking until Clarke brings her hand up to Lexa’s face and runs a finger down Lexa’s jawline, effectively turning Lexa’s face towards her.

Skies are born in Clarke’s eyes and despite the darkened theater, Clarke’s eyes glow blue like light penetrating an underwater cave. Clarke also has the same, awed expression from this morning—when they almost kissed—it’s unmistakable.

Licking her lips, Lexa ignores thrum in her chest. It stops her breathing; she doesn’t need oxygen when she’s inches from Clarke’s shimmering, butter coated, lips. Clarke’s eyes flutter closed, and they are _so close._

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Flashes of strobe light coincide with the blaring fire alarm and the lights automatically flick on.

“Jesus…” Lexa mumbles, reluctantly leaning away from Clarke as the theater begins to evacuate.

Clarke seems equally reluctant to let the moment escape, clutching the chest of Lexa’s sweater with slight beg in her eyes. “It’s gotta be just a prank,” Clarke says. “Right?”

“You want to test that theory and potentially burn alive in each other arms?” Lexa sarcasms, scanning the theater that is almost empty. “We should… really go, Clarke, c’mon.” Lexa relinks their hands and together, they exit the theater.

There was, in fact, a small fire. Too much oil was poured into one of the popcorn machines, causing it to burn, smoke and produce a single flame before a worker released a fire extinguisher on it. But before the theater could resume operations, needed to await the arrival of the fire department for full clearance, leaving a crowd of disgruntled patrons on Christmas Day.  

“We’re sorry folks!” announced the theater manager. “We can provide you a choice of a refund or a movie voucher for your inconvenience.”

Clarke and Lexa opt for the refund.

With feelings no longer harbored between the two—more of a painfully slow and ungraceful unmooring—Lexa refuses to be the subject of sheer bad luck. Fate _has_ _to_ stop interrupting them at some point and instead of letting the moment come, Lexa decides to lay in her own course and accordingly, devises a plan.

/

“Lexa! What am I looking for again?”

“It should be long… black... two pieces for assembly, sometimes three,” Lexa replies.

“Uhh…”

Lexa circles around back to the trunk, where Clarke looks lost and a confused.

“Have you never changed a tire before, Clarke?”

Clarke winces in admittance.

“The manual jack, here it is,” Lexa says, reaching into the hidden side compartment of the trunk and pulling out three narrow lengths of metal plus the crowbar.  

On their drive up to Tahoe, they’ve blown a tire and thankfully, Lexa knows how to change it; cars are one of Lexa’s father’s hobbies and she was obligated to help.

“Were you always such a princess?” Lexa teases.

Clarke slugs Lexa in the shoulder, “No! This has just never happened to me before.”

“And what if I weren’t here, what would be your contingency then?”

Clarke holds up her phone, “Call Triple A?”

“Actually… yeah, take them a couple hours to make it here. But, anyway, here, come help me,” Lexa says, kneeling down by the deflated tire and assembling the manual jack.

The tire causes them a few hours delay, and what was supposed to be a beautiful sunset drive up into the snowy hills of Tahoe, Clarke and Lexa are greeted by the darkened forest lit only by the vehicle’s headlight and a dirty snow berms.

Upon arrival, Clarke recognizes the two cars: Raven’s and Bellamy’s. Octavia and Lincoln, Harper and Monty, and Jasper and Maia are scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

“Here,” Lexa says, handing Clarke her bag.

“Thanks,” Clarke replies, feet crunching the snow below as they ascend the porch steps.

“Clarke, this isn’t a cabin, it’s a _house.”_

Clarke shrugs as she punches in the manual code for they key lockbox. “It’s a house in the mountains, i.e. cabin.”

The door clicks open and they’re welcomed by warm air and the smell of old, musty wood and pine. It’s eerily dark with a single kitchen light on and Clarke flips the main switch, illuminating a well decorated, considerable sized house with Pendleton throws, fur rugs, and a set of antlers above the mantle.

“Weird—wonder where everybody is...” Clarke mutters, shrugging off her coat and kicking off her boots. “Bell? Rae? Their cars are just outside…”

“Could they have gone somewhere?”

“Hm… maybe the Jones’ at the top of the hill.”

“Your neighbors are the Jones’? Really?”

“Really. They have the biggest timeshare on the lot and everybody goes up there for their gigantic hot tub and free booze. Parents are like foreign, banking property investor people. We do New Year’s up there too—launch fireworks from the back porch.”

“Oh, sounds fun.”

“It is. C’mon, bedrooms are upstairs,” Clarke says, leading the way up the stairs. “Um…”

“What?”

“Well, Raven and I usually share the master so…” Clarke reaching for the doorknob of the master bedroom.

“That’s okay, I can stay with Anya in one of the other bedro—”

Clarke twists open the door and is greeted with the most unexpected sight.

“Holy shit! My eyes Rae!” Clarke shouts, covering her eyes at the sight of Raven sprawled on her back with Anya between her legs. Immediately, Clarke slams the door shut.  

“Is that—was that—” Lexa begins to inquire.

“Your best friend and my best friend, yes. Oh my god,” Clarke slides her palm down her face. “I will _never_ be able to unsee that.”

“Shit, sorry, Clarke!” Raven bellows from behind closed doors. “You said you were going to be late!”

“Dammit, Rae!” Clarke bangs on the door, “The master bedroom is _mine._ ”

The door swings open to a sweaty, panting Raven wrapped in a sheet. “Sorry, we were just… finishing. Bell and Echo went the Jones’. And, technically, you and I have shared the master for years soo… I was here first and…”

In the background, Lexa makes brief eye contact with a half-dressed Anya, giving her best friend a courtesy nod before breaking line of sight.

“Stop,” Clarke interrupts Raven. “Just—keep the master ‘cause I’m not sleeping on those fucking sheets. Literally, fucking sheets!”  

“Well, someone might as well,” Raven snarks, well aware of Clarke’s involuntary celibate status.

“Fuck off Raven,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes.  

“Ha, just did!”

“Oh my god.” Clarke reaches for the door. “You’re done.”

“Oh c’mon, you walked right into that—”

And slams it closed on Raven.

“C’mon Lex, this way.”

They enter a smaller room across the hall with a smaller bed. Normally, Clarke would be upset about this, but since Christmas Eve, Lexa had been sneaking down the hall to Clarke’s bedroom, spooning the blonde tight every night and getting up early before Abby rose. Their situation now eliminates Lexa’s dubious actions. Clarke wants that lazy morning with the brunette, to watch her sleepy eyes open first thing in the light of day.

Clarke gets what she wants the following morning; she watches Lexa’s bleary eyes slip open after a night of cuddles and whispers. Although, what’s throwing Clarke off the most is Lexa seems to be purposefully avoiding long eye contact—the lingering kind that leads to a kiss—but doing everything else: subtle touches, eager hand-holds, and sheepish grins. The mixed signals result in Clarke worrying that perhaps Lexa doesn’t want it to happen?

/

“I’m planning to kiss her on New Year’s,” Lexa says.

“Don’t you think you’ve waited long enough?” replies Anya, swinging her foot, which causes the lift chair to rock gently.

They’re fully outfitted in winter riding gear: helmets, goggles, gloves and all. Lexa’s Burton snowboard is strapped her right foot while her left dangles above snow-dusted trees. She had been riding the ski lift with Clarke but switched with Anya for a different trail run and agreed to rendezvous with Clarke and Raven in a couple hours.

“It’s only a day away, now,” Lexa replies. “Plus, I decided I want it to be extra special and a New Year’s kiss seemed fitting.”

“You’re such a useless gay romantic,” Anya swats at the air.

/

“I just don’t get it, Rae, one minute she’s all touchy and feely, but the next, she’s avoiding even _looking_ at me. All I want to do is shove my tongue down her throat and do… things.”

Clarke and Raven are having a very similar conversation, though on a different lift to ride the mogul part of the park.

“Have you considered just asking her?” Raven replies.

“Ask her what? ‘Hey, Lexa, why don’t you want to kiss me?’ Does my breath smell or something?” Clarke leans across at Raven and blows a puff in Raven’s face.

“Ugh, stop that,” Raven nudges Clarke away. “Your breath seems fine. Maybe she thinks you don’t want to.”

“How can I not want to? I’m throwing myself at her. Literally. You saw it yourself, last night, during the movie. I sat on her lap.”

“Hm… yeah, you did.”

“Like all night, uncomfortably all night. Did it look like she didn’t want it?”

“Um… no, no. But I also wasn’t paying that much attention—sorry,” Raven says, alluding to the fact that she and Anya spent most of the evening sucking faces.

“Hey—I meant to ask, have you been working out?”

“A little bit, started some boxing lessons, why?” Rave replies.

“Just the other day, I noticed um—” Clarke gestures her abdomen. “Your stomach looks nice, toned.”

“Oh,” Raven nods in approval. “Thanks—okay, actually, I’ve been working out to impress Anya. She does Wushu.”

“Wushu? Isn’t that the name of Mulan’s pet dragon?”

“No, genius, that was Mushu. It’s Wushu with a ‘W,’ Chinese Kungfu. Oh man, I went to one of her matches—so hot.”

/

“So, things seem to be going well between you and Raven,” Lexa inquires as they stand to dismount from the lift and slide down the minor hill to strap into their snowboards.

Anya nods while tightening her boot binding, clicking and snapping her foot in place. “Yeah, really well. She’s _smart_ Lex. Like doesn’t even need to go to class smart.”

“The rebel genius, right up your alley.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lexa rolls her eyes while pulling her ski goggles she over her face. “Third grade, Joline Kurtis.”

Back in middle school, Joline was concurrently the coolest and smartest girl in school. Three years older than Anya, Joline served as Anya’s “first love.” Joline frequently skipped class, but was recognized for her gifted intellect, and offered a scholarship to a private high school. The last day of school, Anya confessed her undying love in the form of a letter—passing it to the Joline during lunch. Because of their height difference, Anya climbed two rungs and sat on the jungle gym—ensuring eye contact. The older girl read the letter, smirked and placed a single kiss on Anya’s cheek with the words, “Cute.” Unfortunately, Anya was unprepared for what came next. Shocked by the sudden display of affection, blood withdrew from Anya’s veins and Anya fainted and fell from the jungle gym, effectively breaking her arm.

Anya drops her jaw, “You did not.”

“Hey, you wanna play ‘useless gay,’ at least I didn’t break my arm the first time I talked to a girl,” Lexa jibes and with a single hop, Lexa clears the crest to begin her descent.

At the mountain summit, the snow is fresher, untouched powder, and Lexa carves perfect turns, feeling like a hot knife through butter. Sometimes, Lexa would venture between the trees, paving new paths and leaving snow covered twigs snapping behind her. When Lexa emerges from the trees, she crosses Anya’s path and they zig-zag figure eights down the slopes together.

Coming up to a fork, Lexa hangs left onto the double-black diamond (the most difficult ski trail rating) seeking out the steep and narrow.

“Lexa, I’m going right!” Anya shouts behind her. “Meet you back down at the lift!”

Lexa waves a visual acknowledgment and continues down her chosen path. Because of the trail difficulty, it’s less crowded and affords a unique feeling of freedom. Nothing but mountains, trees, and sky.

Unexpectedly, Lexa spots a boarder, sitting—struggling—mid-run. There’s no one else around, so if they came with a friend, seem to have been abandoned by their buddy. Lexa halts with the whip of her board, spraying a wave of snow across her bow.

“Hey, need some help?”

The person turns, and they look strikingly familiar. Lexa lifts her ski goggles.

“Costia?”

“Lexa? Oh god, this is embarrassing…”

Lexa immediately recalls their conversation from before: Costia’s never snowboarded before despite growing up in South Lake Tahoe.  

“What—you do realize this is a double-black diamond?”

“I do now,” Costia says, throwing her arms up in defeat. There’s snow all over her, like she’s been rolling around making snow angels, in her attempts to get up. Lexa is obligated to help—she would do this for anyone, regardless if it were Costia or not.

“Here,” Lexa outstretches her hand for Costia to take, helping the Costia up.

“Whoa,” Costia swings her hands in backward circular motions, attempting to gain her balance, and the flat of her board begins to slide.

“Dig your heels in, so the edge of the board grips the snow,” Lexa instructs.

“What? Okay…” Costia leans back to “dig her heels in” only for the board to slip out from under her like a cartoon stepping on a banana peel. Instinctively, Costia reaches for anything, grabbing a hold of Lexa’s arm and unintentionally pulling the brunette down with her.

Gravity takes over and their falling momentum has them both tumbling down the slope, tangled until they come to a skidding stop at the next flat.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, Lexa,” Costia apologizes.

“It’s okay, are okay?” Lexa says, immediately sitting up and dusting the snow across her body.

“I’m alright… except, there’s…” Costia reaches back and pulls out a handful of snow, “…snow _in_ my pants. My ass is soaked.”

Lexa chuckles, “Yeah, that happens sometimes. Especially when falling down a mountain.”

“Is your ass soaked?”

“Mine? No, I wear a bib.”

“A _bib_? Like a baby?”

“Well no… not a child’s bib,” Lexa unzips the quarter front of her jacket, revealing an overall styled snowsuit with suspenders.

“Oh, so more like a onesie.”

“Sure. Call it what you want, but it keeps the snow out of my ass.”

Costia laughs. “You know, this is all your fault.” And gives the brunette a light shove on the shoulder.

It’s a flirtatious move on Costia’s part, Lexa’s sure. And albeit, flattering, Lexa has only heart eyes for Clarke and this situation holds no romantic merit for Lexa other than a cordial encounter.

“How is this my fault?” Lexa replies playfully. “It’s not my fault you can’t read basic signage.”

Costia exaggerates a scoff. “Because you’re the one who told me I had to learn how to snowboard. What were the exact words… a ‘walking oxymoron.’ And all I’ve done is eat snow. It’s impossible to get up, and when I do, go right back down. It’s frustrating as all hell ya know.”

Lexa weighs Costia’s words, feeling slight pity for the older girl. “All right, all right. Here,” Lexa gets up in a single motion, making it look easy in the eyes of the novice and extends her hand. “Let’s try this again and I’ll give you a few pointers.”

Lexa spends twenty, thirty minutes max, giving Costia a short lesson, departing when they’ve descended to the next flat and Costia has mostly stopped falling.

“See?” Lexa says. “Look, you made it down almost ten feet without falling.”

Costia rolls her eyes, tipping her head back for effect.

“Hey, I gotta go catch up with my friends,” Lexa says. “Just remember, stay on the _green_ trails.”

“I got it, I got it.”

“Okay, see ya around, Costia.”

“Okay, bye Lexa. Thanks!”

This time, Lexa makes a sharp right, towards the trees and disappears in a cloud of snow.

/

“Where the hell have you been Lex?” says Anya. “I tried texting, but you know—service. Thought you might have crashed into a tree and about to make a second run looking for you.”

“Sorry, I got a bit tied up with someone.”

“You took someone out, didn’t you? Burst out blindly through the trees?”

“No, nothing like that. Just ran into someone else from school and stopped to help them out.”

“Oh, okay. Well c’mon, now we have to blast down the far side to meet back up with the gang at the café for lunch.

/

“There they are,” Raven says, nodding from the picnic table at bottom of the hill.

Clarke and Raven are just outside of the base cafeteria along with the rest of the posse: Octavia, Lincoln, Monty, Harper, Jasper, Maia, Echo, and Bellamy. The outdoor eating area is bustling with skiers and snowboards lounging on tables with food and drinks. Kids run amuck along the berms and flats, throwing snowballs and sliding down small patches of hilly snow.

With both hands, Clarke clutches her hot chocolate, sipping with a hum of acknowledgment as her eyes land on the brunette, recognizing Lexa’s red jacket as she descends. “God doesn’t Lexa look fucking hot in that outfit. She’s such a good boarder too, so smooth in her turns…” Clarke mumbles, just loud enough for Raven to hear. Although, the others are fairly occupied: Jasper, Maia, and Harper still in line for food; Monty is discretely mixing a concoction of hot cocoa and mint schnapps; Octavia and Lincoln are taking selfies; and Bellamy is completely transfixed on his new girlfriend, Echo.

“Need another drink there Grif? ‘Cause your thirst isn’t apparent enough.”

“Shut up.” Clarke smacks Raven on the shoulder.

“I think you should just go for it.”

“Go for what?”

Raven gestures at the incoming Lexa. “What the hell do you think I mean?”

“I dunno, Rae, I dunno,” Clarke mumbles, bouncing her knees in an attempt to thwart the cold—or—the rising butterflies as Lexa approaches. (Probably more of the latter.)

“I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge like this,” Raven says, dipping a few fries in generous amounts of ketchup.

“It’s not… a challenge like some game. It’s _Lexa._ Roommate, teammate—ugh, I’m sick of explaining myself over and over again. It’s just, different, okay?” Clarke says with a hint of warning in her eyes.

“Okay, okay. Just saying, I really don’t you have that much to lose and a whole lot to gain. You’re clouded by your emotions.”

Clarke doesn’t reply. One, because Raven is right, and two, Lexa and Anya are less than twenty feet away, skidding to a front-side stop and unbuckling their boots.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here,” Anya says, approaching the table and plants a kiss on Raven’s lips.

“Hey, Clarke,” Lexa says with a greeting smile and squeezes onto the bench in a straddle position facing Clarke. “Miss me?”

Smitten, Clarke leans into Lexa with her shoulder. “Psh, in your dreams.”

“Mm,” Lexa hums as she peeks down at Clarke, “you have cocoa right…” and reaches up with her thumb to swipe the corner of Clarke’s mouth, “here.”

It takes all of Clarke’s willpower not to lean forward and take Lexa’s thumb into her mouth. To suck and roll her tongue over Lexa’s finger in pure lechery. But, Clarke only purses her lips tighter together and pushes her cup towards Lexa. “Want some? Oh… and there’s a little bit of alcohol in it, FYI.” Clarke nods in Monty’s direction. With his goggles raised over his messy hair, Monty looks like a mad scientist.

Lexa nods, taking the cup and putting her cold-chapped lips to the Styrofoam edge. Her cheeks are wind-burnt pink and eyes, a lively green between the white snow and forest greens that surround them. Coupled with her boarding attire, Clarke believes this is her favorite iteration of Lexa. A stark contrast from Lexa’s usual t-shirt and shorts on the soccer field, which makes this situation rare and exotic. An alpine escape and Clarke wants to roll around the snow, smashing faces with the brunette.

“Mm, that’s really good. Really good,” Lexa says, taking another sip.

“How was your run down the backside?” Clarke asks.

A puff of moisture follows Lexa’s breath as she comes up from her second sip. “Buttery.”

“Buttery?”

“You know, like powder so fresh and soft, it’s like butter.”

“Hm, never heard it described that way, but okay.”

“How were the moguls?”

“Bumpy,” Clarke gleams a smile. “Oh, and here,” Clarke lifts a tinfoil covered tray, “I got you some chicken tenders and fries. The line’s been getting longer.”

“Aw, thanks Clarke,” Lexa replies. “You’re so thoughtful.” Lexa leans forward to place a kiss on Clarke’s cheek. It makes Clarke blush wildly, tipping her face down to conceal her bashfulness. And while the hot cocoa sufficiently warmed her, Lexa’s lingering lips generates a unique wave of heat, filling her fingers and toes.

Suddenly, Clarke’s phone buzzes on the table and the text preview has her snatching the device into her hands and quickly pocketing it out of Lexa’s sight.

_Raven: just fuck already!_

Clarke darts her eyes across at Raven, who is emitting a snide smile. Anya is clearly in on it too, no smile, but the same mischief in her golden brown eyes.

“How’s your snowboard, by the way?” Lexa inquires, crunching a fry in her mouth.

“I love it,” Clarke replies. “I used to be all about Jones, but the LibTech board has been awesome.”

They continue small talk about snowboards, both fairly versed in mainstream brands and styles. Returning to the slopes after lunch, they ride the mountain until dusk breaks. Swaths of pink and orange color the mountain sky and the sun dips all the way down. As replacement, tall, fake, LED lights flicker on, illuminating the slopes for night riders.

With sore legs and aching bodies, the group treads across the parking lot to return home. The combination of high altitude sun, cold, and wind have left their faces chapped and large, pale eyeballs in a reverse tan from their goggles.

Back at the cabin, it’s a shuffle of gear and bodies as people off-load their skis and snowboards, find spaces by the oil heaters for their boots and gloves to dry while also timing the showers.

“Remember, take short showers!” Clarke yells. “Save some hot water for the next person!”

While Clarke flops on the couch, she’s happy to see Lexa kindly turning to the hearth to start a fire. Raven is on the phone, ordering massive amounts of pizza and Anya is starting a pot of coffee. Everybody else is scattered about, either lounging on a vertical surface or lining up by one of the three bathrooms.

Clarke watches Lexa meticulously assemble a tipi of logs and tinder, topped with a single piece of old newspaper she lights with a match. Within minutes, Lexa has the fireplace glowing and Clarke can feel the heat radiating towards the coach.

“Impressive,” Clarke says. “I’d also like two boxes of thin mints and three Samoas please.”

Lexa scoffs but raises her chin in pride. “I hope you’re happy to know that I was actually in the Girl Scouts.”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Lexa says, taking a seat at Clarke’s feet.

“Lexa’s a Gold Award recipient!” Anya shouts.

“Oh, shut up Ahn!” Lexa yells back at her best friend.

“What’s the Gold Award, Lexa?” Clarke asks.

Lexa rolls her eyes, “It’s nothing.”

“Only the most prestigious award in the Girl Scouts!” Anya answers from the kitchen. “Lexa was in all the way through high school! She wanted to stay but they said no because she aged out!”

Clarke’s jaw drops, “Wow… and here I thought you were some stud athlete.” And nudges Lexa with her foot. “Dork.”

Lexa seizes Clarke’s nudging foot and begins to tickle the bottom. Clarke squeals, kicking to escape Lexa’s grasp, but she knows she’s already at a loss when Lexa lunges forward to press her weight on top of Clarke, pinning Clarke to the couch and tickling where Clarke is the weakest: up her sides.

“Lexa!” Clarke giggles, “Lexa, no, stop!” But Clarke’s laughter continues to betray her words.

“What… did you call me?”

“Big dork! Huge dork! Ah!” Lexa bypasses Clarke’s sweater and goes under, making contact with direct skin. “Ginormous dork!”

“I dare you to keep going.”

Clarke continues laughing, sucking in the saliva that starting to gather at the corner of her mouth and in a single breath, imitates a child’s voice and taunts. “Hi, my name is Lexa Woods, would like to buy some cookies?! Ahhhh!”

Taking the tickling further, Lexa lifts up Clarke sweater, exposing Clarke’s midsection and places her mouth along the blonde’s rib to blow a giant raspberry.

“Lex!” Clarke barks a laugh, bucking and twisting to evade the brunette. “Okay, stop! Can’t—breathe!”

With those words, Lexa relents, humming a smile as she crawls halfway up Clarke’s body and settles onto the blonde’s shoulder. This is the most public they’ve been about their budding affection, now comfortably nestled together on the couch. Lexa’s weight atop Clarke feels nice, and the brunette is warm like a cozy blanket.

“Pizza’s going to be at least an hour!” Raven shouts into the common area.

Groans of dissatisfaction echo the house, but everyone is too tired to truly protest.

“Sorry, they said they’re slammed.”

Clarke tips her head down to peek a Lexa, whose eyelids are slipping as if the tickle-fest exhausted the last of the brunette’s energy.

“You okay with hour, Lex?” Clarke asks, brushing a string of hair from Lexa’s face.

Lexa nods once with eyes now fully closed. Within minutes, Clarke and Lexa have both fallen asleep.

An hour later.

“What’s with those two?” Harper whispers at Raven, nodding at Clarke and Lexa on the couch while peeling a large slice of pizza.

“They just need to fuck,” Raven replies.

“You mean they haven’t fucked yet?” Harper responds in disbelief.

“Mn,” Anya nudges Raven with her elbow with a slice in her mouth. “Lexa said she’s going to make a move on New Years.”

Raven exhales in relief, “ _Finally._ ”

/

“What about this flannel for the party?” Lexa says, emerging from the bathroom in a dark green flannel.

“Well, like the last one, it looks really nice,” replies Clarke.

Flannel has always looked good on Lexa but, for whatever reason, their past few days spent on the mountains has amplified Lexa’s attractiveness in winter attire. “Although, that green does bring out your eyes,” Clarke says, letting her gaze linger on Lexa’s.

“Okay, as long as you like it.” Lexa smiles. “Buttoned or unbuttoned?”

Clarke takes two strides toward the sexy brunette. “Buttoned,” Clarke says, taking Lexa’s shirt in her hands and snapping from bottom up, “but just up… to…” Clarke leaves the first two undone, “here.” Finishing, Clarke runs her fingers down Lexa’s gorgeous mane of wavy brown hair. It’s thick and full and Clarke hopes Lexa never cuts it.

“Thanks. You look really nice too, Clarke.”

Clarke nods, acknowledging the compliment because Clarke purposely wore a top generously displays her cleavage. Lexa’s single flit down to the blonde’s chest doesn’t escape Clarke. Smirking, Clarke clearly made the right choice.

“Ready, Lex?”

Downstairs, there’s a cloud of chit chatter; some are ready and waiting while others are still getting ready. Everyone is nursing a pregame drink and when Clarke looks to the mini bar counter, she understands why. Jasper and Monty are functionally inebriated and inventing a menu of mixed drinks for others to try while reading shitty alcohol jokes to each other off their phones.

“Hey Mont, Mont—” Jasper says, laughing next to his best friend. “What did the bartender say after Charles Dickens ordered a martini?”

“What?”

“Olive or twist!” Jasper cracks, smacking the table and laughing.

“Oh, here’s a good one,” Monty says. “What do you get when you mix English class with alcohol?”

“What?”

“Tequila Mockingbird!”

“Oh man, that’s bad,” Jasper replies, close to tears when he spots Clarke and Lexa. “Clexa! Hey, what do you two want to drink!”

Lexa opts for a light beer with intent to stay mostly sober in anticipation of midnight because when the clock strikes midnight, Lexa’s going to want to remember putting her lips on Clarke.

“Clarke, what about you? Something to drink?” Monty asks.

“Um, just make me whatever tastes good—and preferable not too strong.”

“Got it!”

Most are comfortably buzzed by the time they leave the house to head up to the Jones’, which has the promise of more liquor. Icy snow crunches underneath their steps and the air is crisp, breaths crystallizing as they trek their way towards the main New Year’s event.

The party at the top of the hill is no secret; music echoes down the street and a variety of colored lights crisscross the house. Around back, there’s both a heated pool and hot tub and people are running around half-naked splashing, jumping, and diving. A ping-pong table occupies the garage where a serious game of beer-pong is taking place, while a DJ manages the music from the balcony of the second floor, overlooking the main living area.

Upon entry, the group split: half towards alcohol, half towards the dance floor.

“Lexa, do you want anything to drink?” Clarke yells past the blaring music.

“Um, no thanks! I’m okay! Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good. Wanna just go dance?”

“Sure.”

Clarke and Lexa migrate towards the dancing crowd and what begins with a casual distance between the two slowly shift to the rhythm of the music. Their bodies inch closer, keeping their hands to themselves, until Clarke breaks that barrier with a palm on Lexa’s shoulder. It brings them closer to unison and Lexa closes the loop with newfound purchase on Clarke’s hips.

Over the months, Clarke has witnessed Lexa move a thousand different ways: sprinting on the field; limping sorely after leg workout days; shuffling out of bed when she wakes; stumbling tipsy when she’s drunk. But _this_ Lexa—dancing Lexa—moves with purpose. Emits seduction and lure and Clarke is completely entranced.  

Bringing her other arm up, Clarke interlaces her hands around the back of Lexa’s neck, hugging the brunette close. Deep lies a comforting familiarity from their nights of cuddling, but the situation is laced with the thrill of something _new_. Anticipation is building towards the undiscovered when Lexa slides her hand under the hem of Clarke’s flowing top and caresses up her sides. It sends chills throughout Clarke’s body; the sensation is no longer ticklish but arousing and Clarke bites back a small moan that escapes.

They’re ear-to-ear when Lexa dips, nosing the underside of Clarke’s jaw and nuzzling it exposed. Lips brush her neck and Clarke doesn’t try to conceal her moan this time, freely letting her sound of satisfaction known to Lexa. Slowly, Clarke lifts a hand from the nape of Lexa’s neck and entangles her fingers deep in Lexa’s hair, encouraging the brunette.

Except, Lexa is barely giving her anything, only ghosting up and down her jugular, never fully pressing in. Clarke is starting to writhe and a beg slips. “Please Lex…”

“Ssshhhh…”

_Did Lexa just shush me?_

Clarke can’t understand it, wants to pull the brunette up by her hair and crash their lips together when the music subsides.

“Hey hey!” The DJ announces into the microphone. “We’re going to take a quick ten-minute break and come back in time for the countdown to New Years!”

And just like the music, the moment fades and Lexa removes herself from Clarke’s neck, drifting until their foreheads are tipped together. Clarke wants to stay, close and nuzzled, but the crowd around them has increased by at least triple-fold and the air is uncomfortably thick, muggy and stuffy.

“Wanna go stand outside together?” Lexa suggests. “Get some fresh air and come back to count down?”

Clarke’s reluctant to move, but Lexa finds her hand and interlaces them with reassurance. Together, they zigzag their way towards the front porch.

“Hey Clarke, I have to pee,” Lexa says, pulling Clarke’s hand to detour by the bathroom. Except, every available space in the hallway is occupied with barely enough room for those standing in line.

“Wanna just meet me outside?” Lexa asks.

Hesitantly, Clarke nods and lets go of Lexa’s hand, afraid as if she were a lost child in a crowded fair. This is ridiculous, Clarke thinks to herself, forcing herself to part from the brunette and venture outside.

The gust of cool, alpine air is refreshing. It’s a peaceful contrast to inside with a small gaggle of smokers huddled in the far porch corner and scant others also seeking oxygen.

“Hey! Uh—you! You’re Lexa’s roommate!”

Clarke turns to the foreign call. She recognizes the girl from school, but also, for another, more specific reason.

“Costia,” Clarke responds.

“Oh my god! Is Lexa here?”

Costia’s eyes are dilated; she’s been drinking, but apparently still able to maintain a conversation. Slurred, but comprehensible.

“Uh—yeah, Lexa’s here.”

Costia’s smile spreads and it makes Clarke uncomfortable.

“Oh good, then you would know this…” Costia leans in towards Clarke, swaying to keep her balance, and squints her eyes. “Is Lexa seeing anyone?”

Clarke swallows the urge to produce a blatant lie stemmed from pure selfishness. “No,” Clarke replies, flatly—bitterly. “She isn’t.”

And unfortunately, Costia’s too drunk to pick up on the blonde’s tone. “Mm, that’s what I thought when I saw her the other day on the mountain.”

“Wait—what? When? I’ve been boarding with her nonstop.”

Costia squints again, calling on her memory and shakes her head loosely, “Mmm… nah, there was no one else. And you know what?” Costia takes a sip from her solo cup, “It was so sweet of Lexa to _stay._ Gave me a…” Costia leans in again and waggles her eyebrows, “…personal snowboard lesson. I know she likes me, and I meant to ask—hey!”

Clarke bolts past Costia. Conflicted. Confused. Hurt.

/

The bathroom line is taking _forever_ and Lexa doesn’t want to miss the countdown with Clarke. Her bladder will just have to wait.

Stepping outside, Lexa doesn’t see Clarke on the porch. “Dammit, Clarke…” Lexa mumbles, “Where are you?”

“Lexa! Hey!”

“Costia?”

Costia throws her arms around the brunette in an unbalanced hug, exhaling a waft of drunkenness in Lexa’s face and almost knocks the brunette down in the throw of her weight.

“Whoa, hey!” Lexa says, hugging Costia back primarily to keep the older girl upright.

“Happy New Year!” Costia says. “You know Lexa…” Costia’s unfocused eyes give Lexa a once over. “God damn you’re looking good…”

“Uh, thanks,” Lexa replies. “Actually, have you by chance seen Clarke?”

“Clarke? Who’s he?”

“She. Blonde hair, blue eyes, my roommate—”

“Oh, yeah, yeah! Your roomie. Yeah, she was just out here.” Costia stops at that thought and takes a _long_ drink.

“And then what?” Lexa prompts.

“What do you mean ‘and then what’?”

“Where did she go, Costia?”

“Uh… well… we were talking,” Costia raises an eyebrow, then closes her eyes to recollect the past five minutes, “and I was um…” and reaches to run her hand along a buttoned seam of Lexa’s shirt, “asking if you were single. She said yes, and I was telling her how nice of you it was to give me that _personal_ lesson—”

“Wait, what? Costia—that wasn’t personal, I was just being friendly. Plus I did kinda feel bad you were stuck on the mountain because of me.”

“Oh,” Costia drops her hand. “But—I thought you liked me?”

“Well, I did—I mean, I do—in a nice, friend, way. But… I’m sorta low-key in love with my roommate right now.”

“Ohhhh,” Costia nods profusely, eyes widening in understanding in a _been there, done that_ manner. “Yeah—happens. I’ve dated my roommate before,” Costia says, shrugging, “and several of my teammates. You know, this one time—” Costia begins to drunkenly babble.

“Costia! Clarke, where did Clarke go?”

Costia points down the street with another sip of her drink and Lexa takes off in a sprint.

“Go get her girl!” Costia shouts and fist pumps the air in support.

Lexa runs until she spots a figure underneath the dim streetlights that can only be Clarke.

“Clarke!” 

It’s definitely Clarke, who increases her brisk pace.

“Clarke, wait!”

Running faster, Lexa closes the gap until she’s within arm’s reach, grabbing the back of Clarke’s elbow.

The blonde spins. “Just leave me alone, Lexa!”

There’s a well of tears in Clarke’s eyes and it breaks Lexa’s heart.

“Clarke?”

Clarke wipes her eyes before she begins talking, stuttering, “I—I’m sorry, Lex. I just… I don’t what I was thinking or expecting. It’s so stupid. _I’m_ so stupid.” Clarke continues to struggle for an explanation. “I just have these… _feelings_. And I don’t know what to do with. Sometimes you’re so close, and then you pull away and I dunno, I just—mpppphhhh—”

Lexa lunges forward, smashing their lips together and sealing Clarke’s words that no longer matter. Clarke’s lips are wet and salty and cold, and Lexa has every intention to right that, feeling at total fault for sending Clarke on an emotional roller coaster. She cups Clarke’s cheek, wiping a tear with the pad of her thumb, and tilts to deepen the kiss with a second press.

In the distance, the boom, whistle, and crack of a firework sounds. A myriad of colors paints the sky, and they part to watch a shower of lights above them.

“Happy New Year, Clarke,” Lexa whispers in a breathless exhale, emerald eyes glowing with exhilaration and anticipation.

Clarke sniffles a smile, nodding as she leans in to initiate a second kiss, recapturing Lexa’s lips, soft and plush like the snow. She melts when Lexa's tongue slips into her mouth, swallowing the blonde’s hurt, confusion, and doubt.

They continue to explore each other’s mouths, languid and indulgent, oblivious to the snow that begins to fall. Licks turn into light sucks and nibbles, generating moans and puffs of moisture that trail the air.

Feeding the flame, Lexa takes a few steps forward, backing Clarke into the nearest vertical structure: a light pole. The kiss turns from warm and cozy to hot and needy with labored breaths and greedy hands. Lexa’s hands have fallen south from Clarke’s hips to her ass, generously grabbing until Clarke throws her left leg around the small of Lexa’s back. And _god_ , Lexa _grinds_ and Clarke’s moans evolve into whimpers, digging her heel into Lexa back for more friction.

Despite the burn between her legs, the outside cold begins to affect Clarke, forcing her to suck in chattering breaths between kisses. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the brunette, who pauses to ask, “Do you want to go back to the house, Clarke?”

Smiling, Clarke nods, and together, they stride with haste, giddy with anticipation for the long overdue. Eyes meet with knowing glances and they pick up the pace to a jog, running hand-and-hand in laughter when Clarke breaks into a sprint at the last block.

Feet stumble up porch steps and hands fumble keys. Tensions are amplified and Lexa is crowding Clarke against the door; it’s the most impatient Clarke has ever known Lexa. Clarke can _feel_ the fire in Lexa’s awaiting stare. It sears until the deadbolt clicks and the rush indoors overwhelms Clarke like a gush of oxygen that forms an engulfing flame.

Lexa’s lips are back on hers and boots and coats are abandoned. Clarke reacquaints their tongues; Lexa’s mouth is so hot, it feels like she’s stealing fire—dipping into molten lava that radiates to her very core.

In a single motion, Lexa reaches behind and hoists Clarke around her waist.

“Lexa…” Clarke gasps.

The brunette says nothing—only actions and movements—planting kisses down the underside of Clarke’s jaw the new position affords. Clarke can’t believe this is happening; Lexa carrying her up the stairs while latched to her neck. For the second time tonight, Clarke weaves her fingers through Lexa’s hair and then sinks her face into thick tresses. She allows herself to fully breathe Lexa in; it smells like the bathroom right after Lexa’s showered, the floral of her shampoo but also the indescribable scent of Lexa herself. If Clarke had to name it, call the morning after a storm, when you step into a rainforest of damp pine and dripping ferns.

The forest falls all around her when Lexa lays her on the mattress. Gripping Lexa’s shirt collar, Clarke brings the brunette’s mouth back up to hers, drinking as much as she can as if Lexa’s going to slip away. Her fingers make fast work of Lexa’s shirt buttons—the same buttons she fastened earlier—and shoves the flannel off Lexa’s shoulders. Lexa is simultaneously working Clarke’s clothes, unzipping Clarke’s jeans and pushing her top until it bunches. Impatiently, Clarke leans up to pull her shirt over head and lifts her hips to wiggle her pants off while Lexa strips her own sports bra and jeans until they’re both in total nakedness.

Lexa returns on top, laying flush against Clarke and kisses the blonde’s sternum.

“God, Lex…” Clarke hums. “You feel so _good._ ”

“So do you,” Lexa mumbles again Clarke’s skin, peppering kisses across Clarke’s chest. “Been,” kiss, “waiting,” kiss, “forever,” kiss, “to,” kiss, “do,” kiss, “this.” Then, Lexa grazes her lips over Clarke’s right nipple and kisses it.

Clarke hisses as Lexa makes a single lap with her tongue. Her back arches when Lexa clamps her entire mouth over, pulling Clarke’s tit in a gently suckle. The sensation makes a beeline to Clarke’s clit, spiking in urge though Lexa’s just barely started. Clarke knows she won’t last long. Hell, she might even come from the way Lexa is tending her breasts; Lexa’s taken Clarke’s left nipple in her hands, brushing with her thumb before softly rolling it between her fingers. It’s so pleasurable, it’s painful because Clarke’s clit is throbbing for attention and she is squirming.

“Lex, I—” Clarke whines with want. “More—”

Lexa acknowledges, pausing her slow assault she’s been performing on Clarke’s nipples. While her mouth travels north to reconnecting lips, her hand moves south and meets a slick of warmth.

Clarke’s kissing faulters when Lexa’s fingertips brush over Clarke’s swollen bud, lightly stroking until Lexa settles on a circular motion that has Clarke rolling her hips in cadence.  

“Fuck, Clarke… you are _so_ wet…” Lexa murmurs. “So hot…” And slips inside Clarke with ease.

Clarke buries her moan inside the crook of Lexa’s neck and digs her fingernails into Lexa’s back. Lexa has her so spooled up, she’s going to unfurl any second, like when you wind a spring too tight and it snaps. And Lexa is winding and winding and winding. Slamming her palm against Clarke’s clit with each thrust. Clarke wants to last longer—much longer—holding onto Lexa for dear life because she doesn’t want this to end. It’s too good and it’s taken them what feels like eons to get here.

“Clarke,” Lexa mumbles into her ear. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. Relax,” Lexa coaxes and her voice turns deep, husky with hunger and intent. “Because when you come—you best bet I’m going to spend all night making you come again,” Lexa thrusts quicken, “and again,” fingers curl against Clarke’s spot, “and again.”

Clarke comes in a sobbing cry, spasming underneath the brunette in pleasure until her body slumps. Lexa hardly gives her time to recover, planting kisses across Clarke’s chest and asks, “Can I go down on you?” Though she’s already drifting south, kissing Clarke’s stomach.

“God—yes, please—”

All Clarke sees when she peers down is the smile the shines through Lexa’s eyes, upturning in rapture.

/

Lexa wasn’t lying because it’s been hours and Lexa is _still_ between her legs, licking Clarke towards another orgasm—Clarke’s lost count. Her legs are trembling with fatigue, inner thighs particularly sore, and body coated in sweat. She’s not sure if she can come again, and quite frankly, worried about giving Lexa a break.

“Lex—I dunno if I—if I can come again. Baby…” Clarke tugs up on Lexa’s hair, now a giant tangled mess.

But, Lexa is relentless, mumbling what Clarke is sure a commanding, “One more,” against the apex of her legs. Both of Lexa’s hands drift up, palming Clarke’s breasts and takes her nipples in a simultaneous swirl.

Jesus, Lexa is a sex god because it’s just what Clarke needs, sending her over the edge with legs clamping Lexa’s head.

Completely wrung out like a mop, Clarke’s arms and legs flop like one too. She is _done._ The best and furthest done she’s ever been in her life and pissed at herself she’s been sharing a room with this woman for over four months.

Lexa crawls her way back up Clarke’s body, face shimmering with sweat, hair in tousled chaos, and chin slicked with—Clarke. There’s a hint of smug in Lexa’s eyes as she wipes the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Clarke pants, palming her forehead. “Lexa…”

“You’re so beautiful, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, hovering over the blonde.  

Clarke smiles, cupping Lexa’s face in response and pulling her down for another kiss. Despite her exhaust, Clarke’s not finished until she’s repaid the same for Lexa. Mid-kiss, Clarke hooks her left leg around Lexa and rolls them around, catching the brunette in clear surprise.

“My turn…” Clarke mumbles against Lexa’s lips, kissing and licking her own essence from those plush lips, but eager to taste Lexa for herself. “Is it okay… if I go down on you?” Clarke asks, considering since Lexa had asked her.

The brunette gives a single nod and Clarke descends in enthusiasm, wiggling her way down Lexa’s sculpted body. When Clarke reaches between Lexa’s legs, Lexa is dripping, smeared along her own thighs and Clarke moves to lap it all up. Sticking out her tongue and starting with Lexa’s smooth inner thighs and working her way inward to the source.

Lexa twitches at first contact, but Clarke tightens her grip around Lexa’s thighs and steadies her own tongue until Lexa sinks in.

“Uhn—Clarke…” Lexa sighs.

Fingers thread into Clarke’s hair, stroking and massaging. Sometimes Lexa would sweep the hairs out of her eyes, cup her cheek, or caress her face. Glancing up, Lexa is writhing: chest heaving with erratic breaths, nipples strained and hard, and abs twisting and flexing. The sight is magnificent. It ignites a low churn in Clarke’s core and she reaches to touch, splaying her palm across Lexa’s abdomen to feel Lexa’s abs work under her hands.

With her free (and dominant) hand, Clarke teases at Lexa’s entrance before slowly pressing in. Lexa is tight and warm; silk and velvet; friend and lover. The brunette moans and Clarke sets a steady pace, driving deep into Lexa’s grooves. Also, Clarke’s never heard Lexa cuss this much—usually preceding or proceeding Clarke’s name—and albeit, a bit of a turn-on.

“Fuck, Clarke… oh, shit… Clarke, fuck… damn, Clarke… fuck, right there, Clarke…”

Eventually, Lexa’s grip stiffens in her hair, rocking against Clarke’s face and hand in earnest. Lexa’s close and Clarke moves faster, driving her fingers in-and-out and flicking the tip of her tongue that has Lexa going rigid before spilling across her palm. Clarke milks her as long as she can—as long as Lexa can withstand—until Lexa urges Clarke up.

She pulls Clarke all the way up, slamming their lips back together in a mix of essence. Clarke doesn’t know how, but there’s _more_ fire in the brunette’s eyes; somewhere, a forest is burning in flames. Lexa kisses are deeper, hungrier, slanting and probing her tongue into Clarke’s mouth, taking it for her own.

They make out until hands start to wander again, mouths find skin and fingers explore in. Until neither cares about the hair caught between kisses, limbs entangle in every which way, and the bedroom is more humid than the dance floor. When fatigue would hit one, the other would start again and vice versa, an endless push and pull until both athletes reach total exhaust.

Steady sunlight glows through the blinds when Clarke collapses for good atop of Lexa’s sticky chest. The thrum of Lexa’s heartbeat reverberates through her ear, slowing in tempo with Lexa’s breathing. It’s soothing, and when Lexa’s hand strokes the nape of her neck, sleep begins to creep.

“Clarke?” Lexa whispers, tucking a stranding of hair behind Clarke’s ear.

“Mm—”

“I love you.”

Sore and stiff, Clarke shuffles to prop herself up despite her body’s protest. She meets Lexa’s eyes, glazed and tired, but filled with pride and happiness, and leans in to plant a simple kiss on Lexa’s swollen lips.

“I love you, too, Lexa.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! That's it!? Don't worry, Part II will pick up right where this left off. Looking to finish out the second semester and their first year in school. 
> 
> Also, I'm super excited to share a few new one-shots with you (blame @dreamsaremywords). Stay posted!

**Author's Note:**

> My inbox is always open! @TheSSClexa on tumblr. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way representative of locations and/or organizations depicted.


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